Delicious Ambiguity
by Juulna
Summary: Rey and Kylo Ren repeatedly encounter each other in battle over the years, fighting desperately for the causes that they believe in even as they both grow in strength - and fight off growing curiosity. Yet when Kylo tells Rey that she's pregnant via the Force, will that affect their interactions? And will it change Kylo irrevocably? [Reylo. 8 chapters. Will be rated M later.]
1. The children the world almost breaks

"I wanted a perfect ending. Now I've learned, the hard way, that some poems don't rhyme, and some stories don't have a clear beginning, middle, and end. Life is about not knowing, having to change, taking the moment and making the best of it, without knowing what's going to happen next. Delicious Ambiguity."

― Gilda Radner

* * *

"It's the children the world almost breaks who grow up to save it."  
― **Frank Warren**

* * *

The first time they met after _Starkiller_ was a draw—as much as one could call either of them barely surviving a draw.

Half a year had passed. Kylo Ren had completed his training, and Rey had barely begun hers, yet the knowledge she had drawn from his mind on that first, _fateful_ meeting had made her more than his match. Had they looked a little harder within their minds, they would have noticed a consciousness within themselves that lasted beyond _Starkiller_ , that influenced them minutely from day to day. Yet they did not, and the whisperings in their minds as they drew closer and closer together were shunted aside and ignored in favor of single-mindedly attempting to destroy the other.

If one had been watching, they would have seen the same forms, the same styles, the same _flow_ to the blows they rained down upon each other. One would have thought they were watching the students of a single Master sparring.

Except it was no sparring match.

Rey had barely escaped into her spacecraft, holding her nearly-detached arm to her side with the other, and then passing out promptly once she'd hit hyperspace. She'd almost not woken in time to hear the hails from her Resistance friends.

Kylo Ren had only just made it to his shuttle as well, hands clutching at the parts of his insides that wanted to fall out.

He snarled—though one would have been half-tempted to say there was an edge of a manic grin to it—and returned to his main starship for treatment.

* * *

The second time they met, lightsabers flaring against each other, was at the edge of a battle, their minds clashing violently, even as their sabers came into contact with the other. They parried, blocked, struck, tripped, and slashed at each other for hours as the Resistance and First Order fought on the ground of a Mid-Rim planet.

The war was spreading further and further across the galaxy as both sides gained allies or conquered worlds as resource hubs. It had only been a bare three months since their last meeting, yet the war had erupted again like wildfire.

Everyone had expected years of rebuilding, yet here they were.

Today, the Resistance was losing the battle—though certainly not the war.

Rey struggled to her feet, her movements as slow as the First Knight's were, and was about to make another sluggish go at him when she heard her name called.

She reached her hand up just in time to be hauled onto the ramp of a shuttle as the Resistance retreated from the planet's surface.

Kylo Ren's body slumped, panting, but he kept his masked face turned up towards the sky as he tracked the ship the little padawan had escaped on. Even when she was out of his sight, he could still track her through his mind's eye. He could _feel_ exactly where she was within space. He tracked her until he himself was called away, though at that point whatever was linking them had weakened into nothing more than a thin speck, barely discernible.

But Kylo Ren now knew that it was there.

* * *

The third time they met was a complete accident. It wasn't as if either of them was actively seeking each other out. Rey had her lessons, and Kylo Ren had his missions, and they had both become suspicious enough to tighten their mental barriers.

Yet, on a resupply trip two years after she'd joined the war, Rey heard the crackle of a lightsaber coming to life as she haggled with a merchant.

She slowly turned around, her hand reaching to her hip for her own lightsaber as she stared across the space station at the man who had declared himself her enemy from the very start. He was hooded and cloaked in different clothes than his normal robes, but there was no mistaking the gleam of his eyes as they peered out at her from deep within the cowl.

He wanted to fight.

So did she.

Yet she asked anyway, as she thumbed her lightsaber on and deposited her bag gently on the counter behind her. "You really wish to do this here?"

Kylo Ren waited until every last human and alien had streamed from the large room that served as a market before lowering his cowl from his head and replying, "Absolutely."

His grin was feral, yet there was something about it that drew Rey in… Coupled with her first glimpse of his face in two years—the scar had healed jaggedly but was rather faded—she very nearly missed bringing her saber up to block his mid-level thrust in time.

They clashed, back and forth across the room, knocking stalls over, burning holes in metal, incinerating boxes of goods, and generally making a mess of the entire place.

Part of Rey despaired at the livelihoods they were bringing ruin to.

But another part of her _gloried_ in the fight.

She craved these encounters.

She shouldn't _wish_ to clash with him; to fight with him; to lock sabers together in an effort to dominate the other.

But she _did._

She wanted to fight him— _dominate_ him, and show him she was _much_ more than the little scavenger he thought she was—but she also just wanted to _see_ him. There was something about him, something that had been between them since the very first encounter, traumatizing though it might have been on her end, which drew her to him.

She knew he felt the same way. She could _feel_ it pulsating in his mind, through that odd connection she barely ever opened—the connection she wasn't quite sure what to make of, but had her closing her mind off constantly... _just in case_.

Kylo Ren always had an air of anticipation surrounding him when they met. He was ruthless, and calculating, and he never held back. He never offered to teach her again, but… he was _curious_.

Curious to see what she'd learned, perhaps.

Curious to see how she matched up to him.

Curious to see if one or the other would win _for once_.

Clothes torn on both of them, flesh singed and new wounds cauterized by their sabers—and others bleeding profusely from where they'd cut themselves on the twisted metal remains of stalls—Rey was finally pinned beneath Kylo Ren.

That hadn't happened before.

He had used the echoing sounds of a corner wall to throw her off, catching her off guard and knocking her saber out of her hand before she could do more than let out the beginnings of a shriek.

He took her down, struggling the whole way, and pinned her hands beside her head while his lower body pinned hers to the floor. It was cold beneath her overheated body… but Kylo Ren pressed his body against her and Rey could feel how he burned even hotter than she.

Rey froze as her startled eyes met his face. He was as frozen as she was, but his eyes were trained down, staring at where their bodies were pressed against each other, beginning from the stomach down.

He was not looking at her.

In fact, he was entirely distracted.

Kylo Ren's saber had fallen from the nerveless fingers of the hand that had previously been holding both it and her own wrist—and was now just resting on her, limply.

Rey could have gotten free if she needed to.

But the way he was frozen above her—the absolute _confusion_ and _rage_ that was flowing in the Force around him—held her in place as surely as if he'd used the Force to freeze her there himself.

Too late.

Kylo's hands tightened around her wrists once more and he looked up at her with an expression of pure _anger_ on his face—she could _feel_ it pulsating against her mind. His eyes pierced hers and Rey felt as if the temperature around them had suddenly plummeted.

"You were supposed to be _mine_!" Kylo snarled. He pushed his hips against Rey's in a way that left no room for interpretation of what he meant.

He had never done that before—as though he felt he had the right to—he… _what?_

Rey was completely confused but she reacted instinctively, bucking her hips against his in an attempt to throw him off, snarling right back at him. "What are you _talking_ about? I am not _yours_!"

Kylo Ren pulled her hands together over her head, pinning both wrists beneath one wide grip and then bringing his now-free hand to the bottom of her shirt. He lifted it quickly with a fiercely impatient tug and then splayed his fingers across her lower abdomen, right below her belly button. His fingers were gentle, completely contrary to the rest of his body, and Rey felt as if she could do nothing but watch.

She stopped struggling even as she felt the Force pool against her stomach, pushed against her by the man above her. The Force was telling her to be quiet, and she had learned to listen to it over the past two years.

It had been one of her first lessons, and had saved her countless times.

Kylo's eyes never left hers even as his fingers moved, skimming her flesh gently. "These were supposed to be _mine_ ," he snarled again, but softer this time.

Rey couldn't keep quiet any longer, her confusion only growing stronger with every passing moment. "What? What was supposed to be yours?" she gasped out, startled slightly by a particularly odd sensation that his fingers were sparking in her; that his mind was sparking in hers as it rubbed against her.

"These _children_ ," he glared at her. "Who is the father? _Who_ is it?! The traitor? The pilot? No matter, I will kill him with my bare hands! You were supposed to be _mine_ ," he repeated, more softly, seemingly to himself. His eyes continued to bore into hers.

Rey laughed in his face, happy at the startled and hurt look that flashed across his features and the pain that flared through their connection. "You must be going completely _mad_ now, Kylo Ren. I always knew you were crazy, but this? Hah! You're imagining things that don't exist; seeing things that aren't there; deluding yourself into thinking I could _ever_ be yours"

Kylo simply held her gaze for a moment before leaning down and whispering in her ear, his hand still pressed between them—though now his own abdomen was pushing it more firmly against her bare skin. "Who fucked you before I did, Rey? Whose children are these?"

The animosity was nearly gone from his tone, but Rey could sense he was barely controlling himself; barely reining himself in so that he could be sure to hear her response. For some reason she felt compelled to answer him truthfully—if only to prove to Kylo Ren that he was delusional and that he needed _help_.

" _No one_ has fucked me, Kylo Ren. And you _never_ will. There is no way I am pregnant. I may have raised myself on a desert planet, nearly alone, but there are certain truths about the human body that even _I_ know, and I know that I have _not_ performed the necessary actions in order to conceive a child, let alone more than one. So," she finished primly, her nose tilting up arrogantly, "You're _wrong_. Hate to break it to you."

Kylo Ren drew back but only until he was less than an inch from touching his nose to hers. Rey went nearly cross-eyed trying to meet his gaze before settling on staring at his forehead. His hand was still pressed between them, his hips still pinning hers to the ground with an odd hardness trapped against the tender juncture of her thighs—yet Rey tried to ignore every last bit of that. She began to think of ways to get out of the situation—Force or no Force, if necessary.

"You're telling me you're a virgin?" he asked softly, projecting deadly calm at her through the Force. It was very reminiscent of the way he'd spoken to her in the interrogation chair. That, coupled with the absolute _rudeness_ of the question, had Rey shoving him off of her and darting backwards, away from him, her hand calling her saber to her and igniting it at the offense.

But she wasn't able to escape without his fingers skimming over her most private of areas—a touch that she almost thought she imagined except for the pulse of the Force coursing lightly through her from the point of contact.

"Huh. I guess you are," he said quietly, musingly, mostly to himself as he got slowly to his feet.

He looked so distracted—he didn't even call his lightsaber to his hand. That, coupled with the absolutely _disturbed_ but contemplative look on his face and the complete _calm_ that had settled over his mind, had Rey powering down her saber and running for her shuttle.

She knew she should have struck him down while she had the chance.

She knew it would have saved the galaxy a lot of trouble, and a lot of lives.

But she had never seen him so… _vulnerable_.

It was even worse than when she'd left him on _Starkiller_.

Rey's mind dismissed every word he'd said, however. She was absolutely convinced that inside of him was a raging lunatic, completely out of touch with reality.

She almost felt _sorry_ for him.

* * *

 **Note: Disclaimed, of course! Thank you so much for reading this (again)! Welcome back if you are here a second time, and simply welcome, and thank you for joining us, if you are reading this a first time. :)**

 **This work was originally published on July 6th, 2016. In January of 2017 I was hacked and someone removed my works without my consent. It took me a while to heal but now I am back! Thank you to my husband and my betas Annaelle/Cuthian and Perry_Downing (check out both their works!) and my other wonderful friends for being so supportive.**

 **If you're joining me from reading Codega, thank you! I'll continue posting that every other day. I will start posting Mitzvah and Gradations soon as well! Also, I am working on a new story, an AU where Jakku becomes a member world of the New Republic, and guess who gets involved... ;D**

 **xoxo**


	2. Life knew what I needed

"Unplanned does not mean unwanted or unloved. It just means life knew what I needed before even I did."

— **Unknown**

* * *

Their fourth meeting was completely unplanned—at least on his part. He had shut down his connection with her for the last three months, completely refusing to give in to the temptation of opening the… whatever it was that seemed to bind them together… to see how she was _feeling_. He could feel her faintly, just as he knew she felt him, but that was all.

Anything more was a weakness he could not afford to partake in.

She was of no consequence to him, he told himself.

But he knew he was a liar.

She slunk into the hangar, and it took Kylo mere seconds for his eyes to be drawn to her, as if he knew instinctively that _she_ had arrived. When she came out of the shadows, making her way across the floor, his eyes tracked every single nuance of her movements.

Rey had a haunted cast to her eyes, as if she were being hunted and had been for a while. Her eyes darted constantly around her, as though she were checking to see if she was being followed.

Perhaps she was.

Kylo observed her from his perch on top of some merchant's shuttle. He'd felt her presence raging towards him through this… _thing_ … between them, though it had been devoid of quite the same level of righteous fury that he had felt from her in the past.

He opened himself slightly, brushing against her consciousness before drawing abruptly back within himself except for the barest sliver.

No, this time she felt much more _confused_ in her anger.

More… _chaotic_.

It didn't please him as much as he'd thought it would at one point in time.

Kylo had chosen to observe her arrival at the hangar bay from a higher vantage point. He knew that she was aware of his presence, just as he was sure that she had sensed his knowledge of her approach, as well.

Still, his choice of places to crouch and lie in wait offered him precious minutes with which he could simply observe her.

He was on an undercover mission and was dressed in garb suitable to his role as a smuggler. His hair was swept back from his face with a series of braids that were native to the culture of the planet he was professing to hail from. It had been many years since he'd gone so _bare_ in public, with his hair pulled back and no cloak to conceal his features in shadow, but at least in the past he'd had the reasonable certainty that he wouldn't encounter anyone who would recognize his face.

He hadn't expected _her_ to track him down. He hadn't even been sure she could. Obviously, he'd been wrong. Obviously, she'd been training; learning.

His eyes twitched, quickly followed by the fingers of his bare right hand. The same fingers that would normally grab hold of the mask that would cover his face. She'd seen him without the mask before, but today, for some reason—perhaps because he hadn't been prepared to see her—he wished fervently for his mask and robes.

He felt… too _open_. Too _raw._

He wouldn't be able to hide anything from her today. His emotions were too bare, and he had nothing to hide _behind_ , in any case… not like before. There was no avoiding their confrontation, but there was also nothing that could be done for the emotions that had not been able to settle in him since their last meeting.

She was _pregnant_.

He wasn't sure what had him in its grips more: the hatred that she was pregnant with anything but _his_ child, or the fear of how powerful she and her children could become—for what else were the children meant for if they were sired by the _Force itself,_ if not to rule the galaxy and bring power to the side who they swore allegiance to?

Or maybe… maybe what he feared most of all was the awe and fascination of her that had morphed out of his previous curiosity and simple possessiveness. It was… _soft_. And that was something to be afraid of, in and of itself.

As she got closer, he could see the evidence with his own eyes.

She couldn't be any more than four months along, based on what he'd felt at their last encounter and how much time had passed since, yet her belly had swelled out noticeably to his eyes. He reminded himself, as he looked over her still trim and athletic form, that she was carrying twins. Beneath the loose ivory shirt tucked into the waistband of beige pants, she was obviously pregnant to anyone who cared to look. She was obviously too fit for the roundness of her stomach to mean anything else.

Suddenly, unbelievably, anger flashed through him.

Why was she hiding her beautiful, fertile form? The epitome of femininity and power, and here she was, _hiding_ it, slinking around as if she were _ashamed_.

She should be _proud_ of what she was carrying; she should display the elegance of her bearing, which he _knew_ she possessed, for all to see.

If she were _his_ , he would make sure that everyone knew that he had staked his claim; that he had marked her as his; that she was filled with _his_ children—

Except she wasn't.

Cursing the whims of the Force, snarling silently at the cruelty of the galaxy and whoever controlled its fortunes and fate, Kylo Ren stood up.

He dropped over twenty yards to the ground, using the Force to cushion his landing even as he bent his knees to assist with the impact. He slowly drew himself up again, knowing exactly what he would be met with when he did.

The blue beam of Rey's lightsaber was poised directly beneath his right ear, and he stared calmly down its length to meet its owner's eyes. He made no movement to go for his own lightsaber, tucked into a small pack hanging off of his hip.

Absently, he wondered if it were a coincidence that she wielded Anakin's blade—the blade of another child sired by the Force.

"How did you know?" Rey growled as she looked up her blade's length, as well, meeting Kylo's eyes for the first time in months.

He was almost shocked at the anger he saw residing within those hazel orbs.

He had thought he'd be pleased to see her descent towards a lack of control, but instead all it did was spark his own rage. All it did was make him want to find whoever had made her so angry and rip them limb from limb.

"Answer me!" Rey's voice snapped him out of his downward spiral, and his eyes focused in on hers again.

He kept himself still as he replied, calm as ever, as if he were trying not to spook a wild animal. "How did I know what?"

"Do not play games with me, Kylo Ren," she hissed.

He admired the control she was exhibiting. Even through her anger, she seemed able to rein it in and not let it consume her, and her hand never wavered as she held her saber a bare inch away from his skin.

Kylo knew exactly what she was asking, though. He decided to take pity on her—why, he wasn't exactly sure of, but he felt it at least had something to do with curiosity over her predicament. Engaging her in conversation, learning, _understanding_ her and what had happened to her over these past three months to have put that haunted look in her eyes… to have made her look as if she were running from something... _everything_. As if she were being _hunted_. Yes, that is why he answered her.

"I felt their Force signatures," he replied evenly, his eyes never leaving hers.

He remained quiet and still after that, waiting to see what she would do or say next.

"You would have to be _looking_ for that, wouldn't you?" she accused, narrowing her eyes.

"Not necessarily." He had checked. He had looked it up in as many tomes, databases, and holocrons he could get his hands on. He had wondered that himself; why he had felt the children's presence flare out towards him like that. He hadn't quite received a satisfying answer to the question, but it had been enough to abate his curiosity. "If someone is… familiar enough with someone else's Force signature, the addition of new life will stand out and be immediately apparent to those who are intrinsically aware of said person's usual signature."

Rey stared up at him, her nostrils flaring as she deliberately tried to keep her breathing under control. "And you are… _familiar_ … with my Force signature… how?"

"This bond we share," Kylo answered simply, though the answer itself raised so many more complicated questions and topics of discussion.

They had never once addressed it out loud. Never once deliberately intruded on the others' thoughts, even after they had both become aware that something was linking them.

In fact, they had practically ignored it altogether.

Rey drew her breath in on a barely-noticeable gasp—he would have missed it if he hadn't been so focused on her—and held it.

She averted her eyes suddenly, powered down her lightsaber, and backed up two large paces. She held her weapon in one hand before her, ready to power it on at the slightest provocation from Kylo, while the other reached up to rest upon the swell of her womb. She flicked her eyes down to where her hand lay, and then she let out the breath she'd been holding on a long exhale. Her shoulders drooped and, besides her steady grip on the saber, she looked as if she were defeated.

He wasn't even sure she'd spoken her next words until she looked up and met his gaze after she finished. She was so quiet. "Why me? How… _how_ and _why_ did the Force do this to me?"

Kylo had no idea why she was asking him these things. Didn't she want to fight? Why was she seeking answers from _him_ of all people? He… wasn't complaining—not exactly—but he felt confusion in the wake of her questions.

It took him a moment to realize the confusion was coming from her just as much as it was coming from him. She was opening up, whether she had intended to or not.

Kylo took a few steps backwards, keeping his eyes on Rey the entire time, and then sat down on a crate he had noticed earlier.

"I could tell you all that bullshit about the 'Force working in mysterious ways,' but that's really all it is: bullshit," Kylo drawled as he pulled his legs up and under him into a meditation pose. "The real answer is that no one really knows why the Force does that; just that it sometimes… does. It happens so rarely that no one has ever had the chance to truly study it—" Rey winced at that, and Kylo narrowed his eyes angrily… but not at her. He had a sudden suspicion, and voiced his next question with an edge of possessiveness.

"Why are you asking me these things?"

"I just want to know why—" she began.

"No." Kylo cut her off, his voice rising in volume. "No. That's not it. What are they doing to you? That's why you look as if you're running from something, isn't it?" he accused. He leaned forward, back straight, dropping the illusion of relaxation.

Rey dropped the hand holding her lightsaber to her side, clipped it to her belt, and then brought it up to join her other hand where it was drawing circles on her stomach. She didn't even seem aware that she was doing it. She was quiet for long moments, and Kylo could tell she was thinking hard on how best to respond.

He gave her the time she obviously needed.

For some reason, he was… not necessarily enjoying, but close enough… this conversation with Rey. It was the most words they'd spoken to each other ever, and he relished in the opportunity to be near her, to study her in stillness, and to hear her words when they weren't directed at him in fury and frustration.

"I don't know why I'm telling you these things," she finally replied, her eyes switching constantly between keeping an eye on him and where her hands lay on her belly. "Maybe it has something to do with you being the person who's been the most honest with me in my life, odd as that might seem. Even in our battles, even in your—and my—anger, you've never lied to me."

She glanced up for an extra-long moment before dropping them back to her previous pattern and continuing to speak. When she'd met his gaze right then, her eyes had been filled with a deep, vast coldness, and he could feel waves of bitter anger rushing against him.

"No one can answer me as to why the Force chose me, let alone _how_ the fuck I was impregnated by some mystical energy, but at least you were honest with me in your answer that no one knows. That there _is_ no answer to the question." Her fingers clenched into her shirt, then smoothed over her belly once again. "They all try to guess, and it's infuriating. They treat me in turns like someone to be stuck on a pedestal, and someone who carries a deadly plague.

"I've been lucky in that Master Skywalker has maintained a… presence off-world, and that I spend most of my time with him. Otherwise… you should _see_ the way that the doctors and scientists practically salivate over me every time I step foot on base. And it's only been _three_ months!" she practically snarled, one hand reaching up to run over the buns in her hair, nearly tearing one free from its tie.

Kylo wished fervently that he _could_ see them—and that he could meet them with his lightsaber for _daring_ to treat this woman like a science project. He was nearly consumed with his anger, but Rey was continuing, and he dared not miss what she was saying.

He was keeping track of it all, tallying the Resistance's crimes against Rey in his mind, to one day claim retribution over.

"They want to use me." Her voice had dropped to a whisper, and Kylo had to strain to hear her. "Or at least, they want to use my… babies… They never say it when I'm around, but word gets back to me. They have plans. They already have tentative _plans_ for my children. _My children!_ " Her voice was still quiet, but she was biting out the last words harshly, and Kylo felt icy rage flow around him through the Force—hers _and_ his.

How dare they?

He hadn't even realized he'd spoken aloud until she was striding forward. She looked up into his face from much further down than earlier—the crate had gained him an extra foot of height. Her stomach brushed against his knees, and he doubted she was even aware of it.

His eyes dropped to her swollen flesh hidden beneath her shirt, and he felt a flare as his Force signature brushed against hers—and _theirs_.

His breath caught.

Rey reached her hand up and gripped his chin with the bare fingers of her hand. Her flesh was hot against his, and slightly damp from stress and nerves, he was sure. His skin tingled at the contact, and he rushed to clamp down on any outward or emotional response he might give.

She forced him to look her in the eyes. He met them with calmness, feeling more in control of himself than he had ever felt before.

She was touching him—that grounded him more than he'd ever imagined it would.

The raging storm inside him was soothed.

"They _dare_ ," Rey enunciated slowly, drawing out every word so that Kylo would be sure to hear—and understand—her. He could feel her conviction, through her voice as well as through the Force. "They _dare_ because the First Order… because the Knights of _Ren_ —" she sneered derisively, "—are a taint on this galaxy that must be eradicated. They see an opportunity presenting itself to them, and they wish so desperately to win this war that they will use my _children_ to achieve that end."

She fell silent, staring intently into his eyes. He could not—did not want to—look away. Even in her fury she was beautiful. An avenging queen, his mind supplied. _Radiant in her glory._

"Even if I do not _agree_ with their specific aims, I will do whatever I can within reason to help eradicate the First Order and the Knights. They must be stopped. _You_ must be stopped." She glared up at him, her grip on his chin tightening almost painfully. "I will not go running from them simply because they treat me oddly—I have put up with that for most of my life; it's not enough to scare me away now.

"But you," she continued. "You may offer me the truth, and you might not be as crazy as I'd assumed before… but you _are_ my enemy."

He spoke quietly into the silence that fell over her after her declaration. "Then why do you not strike me down? Why did you track me down, all this way, if not to kill me?"

Confusion flared across her face and through the bond.

She truly did not know, did she?

Kylo knew—sort of—why he hadn't killed her yet.

But _she_ didn't know why she stayed her hand with him.

"You're curious about me," he asserted. He kept his voice neutral, not allowing smugness or his own curiosity to enter his tone. He knew he was right.

So did she, it seemed.

She gripped his chin tightly one last time, and then flung herself two steps back before turning and walking from the room.

"Next time," she promised from over her shoulder. As she walked away, she shut herself off from him once more, and he had to struggle not to protest.

Kylo Ren watched her the entire way out of the hangar bay, his hand rubbing over the same spot hers had touched just moments earlier.


	3. Fierce and Pure

"There is no love as fierce and pure as a mother's."

— **Vicki Reece**

* * *

Five weeks later she saw him again, deep in the middle of the melee of battle. He was masked, his robes flowing around him as he spun and slashed and hacked at the enemies surrounding him.

His enemies.

Her allies.

Yet she could not bring herself to approach him just yet. She simply watched from her vantage point, nearly mesmerized as he effortlessly held off group after group of ground forces.

He was truly a sight to behold.

Rey looked down at her stomach where it protruded from beneath her own flowing Jedi robes. It was the third time she'd seen action since her pregnancy had become known, though it was her first officially-sanctioned battle.

They hadn't been able to keep her away the first two times. She always managed to find her way to the battle, one way or another.

She _refused_ to stand idly by, even if it put her children at risk. Everyone had been horrified by her actions— _everyone_ , including the friends who should have best understood her.

Rey chose instead to view her actions as _protecting_ her children by defeating the enemies who would wish either to kill or to use them for nefarious purposes.

She refused to allow that to happen. _Ever_. She would rather kill them herself than let her children be taken by her enemies.

 _That_ had horrified Leia—and Luke—the most when they'd heard it.

She was sure that had precipitated the change in her restrictions.

Luke had grudgingly announced earlier that week that if he allowed her to fight, at least he could keep an eye on her and control what she got herself into.

She'd managed to lose him within minutes of landing.

Now here she stood, watching the one person who she could reasonably claim to be her arch enemy… watching him with hungry, appreciative eyes.

Suddenly, there was a lull in the battle below her and Kylo Ren cast his gaze upwards. The visor of his mask was looking right at her, and Rey felt him brushing against her consciousness.

She briefly brushed up against him before pulling back, aghast that she'd done such a thing. She shouldn't have _wanted_ to feel his mind against hers.

Rey looked down at her belly, brushed her hand over it, and whispered to her children, "Mother's going to get back to work now. Be safe. Be silent. Be strong. I will protect you." These words had become her mantra, it seemed.

She jumped down off of the ledge, using the Force to gentle her landing. She rose up and gazed coolly at the Stormtroopers who had surrounded her.

They saw a pregnant woman, though dressed in Jedi robes. They did not see the lightsaber. They did not expect her to be dangerous.

Their mistake.

By the time she had cut a swath through her enemies to reach the spot she had last seen Kylo Ren, he was gone.

Rey turned her renewed fury on the next group of enemies.

* * *

A brief flash of three brown buns caught his eye as Kylo turned around in a market six weeks later.

The flare of brown and beige robes were all he could see as he frowned after what _had_ to have been her.

The brush of her mind against his confirmed it, before she quickly barricaded herself once more.

He did not pursue her.

* * *

The hum and crackle of a saber held against her throat, hot breaths—he must not be wearing his mask—against her ear, three days after that.

She held herself, breathless but not afraid.

Finally, he was gone, but not before she felt his free hand slide across her stomach, firmly caressing her body from one side to the other.

The heat branded her, catching her breath in her throat in an entirely different way.

* * *

A week later, they met in battle again. There were about two months left in her pregnancy, they'd said, but she felt ready to burst.

Twins. Why did it have to be _twins_?

The Force was a cruel father, parent—whatever.

She took out her discomfort on the enemies around her. The mission was supposed to have been simple. A surprise dawn attack, on a lightly-fortified outpost.

But _of course_ Kylo Ren had to be there with a division of Stormtroopers.

Although these soldiers seemed much less startled at fighting a pregnant woman—she had been involved in over two dozen altercations since she had started showing, and obviously the word had spread that she was not to be trifled with—she could still sense their hesitancy at striking out with their electrified batons.

Well, that was _their_ problem.

Rey took the opportunity to cut them down with barely a hitch in her breathing. Her body may have become large, but she had trained constantly so that she would never burden herself or those around her. She was used to her body's changes by now.

Suddenly, she screamed as a blaster bolt hit her in the hip, burning through her robes and into the flesh beneath, releasing a charred smell and an awful sizzling sound.

She could barely hear it through the roaring in her ears.

The Force roared around her. Her children cried out in that wordless way she had come to know so well—though this time it was in fear and anger and not in joy—as she collapsed on one knee to the ground.

Rey blinked. She was amazed she hadn't been cut down yet. Surely, she must have provided her enemies with ample opportunities to have killed her in her weakened state.

She blinked again, and then blinked one more time as she collapsed fully to the ground. She was confused. She felt sluggish, and knew her body must have been going into shock to protect itself—what sort of _idiotic_ biological reaction is _that_ , she snarled internally—but surely she was not hallucinating.

She must be, though.

Because Kylo Ren was standing over her, thrusting his red, crackling lightsaber through the body of one of his _own_ Stormtroopers. He then whirled on three more, cutting them down quickly until none remained. Until none remained to bear _witness_.

He powered down his saber and then bent to pick Rey up in his arms, cradled against his chest, her damaged hip facing outwards.

She didn't feel any pain anymore—that was bad, wasn't it?

' _I've got you…_ '

Was she imagining his voice in her head?

Was she imagining his arms around her; the clutch of his fingers against her; his mind projecting calm at her even as she felt rage within his own mind?

"Let her go!"

She wasn't imagining Luke's yell coming from nearby, she was sure.

"Silence, Skywalker," snarled her—captor, savior, protector? "If I had wanted her dead, she would be dead."

"What are you doing—?"

"I'm bringing her back to you, you _fool_ ," Kylo Ren growled through his vocoder. The sound was almost _soothing_ to Rey as she started to drift in and out of consciousness. "She was hit by a blaster bolt on her left hip. She must be treated immediately or the shock will force her into labor and she may lose the children."

Silence.

"I don't understand—"

"You don't need to understand," Kylo replied with deadly calmness.

Rey felt herself being transferred from one set of arms to another. She squirmed, whimpering at the loss of contact with Kylo. He had protected her… why?

"This doesn't make us even," Luke stated vehemently.

"Look at you—you can't even thank me for the life of your Padawan. How pathetic," Kylo drawled. "I didn't expect anything from you. I don't expect this to make us even."

And with that, he was gone, Luke's arms filled with a heavily-pregnant Rey.

The last thing she felt before slipping into unconsciousness was another brush against her mind. This time it stayed.

She let it.

* * *

He sighed with relief when he saw her the next time, two weeks later. He hadn't heard anything, or felt anything from her—or the tiny signatures that were her children—since she had been injured.

She had shut him out after waking, it seemed.

He hadn't known how much he'd been wondering about her until that moment. He had thrown himself into mission after mission after the battle… after her injury… after seeing his uncle.

He had refused to dwell on that; the past was in the past where it belonged.

It was a brief encounter, where they both stared each other down over the yards that spanned between them. They looked into each other's eyes even as other citizens and visitors passed between them, renewing the lock of their gazes as soon as it was broken.

They couldn't look away.

But soon, Rey's name was being called, and she was flicking her gaze away from Kylo's.

His eyes dwelled on the swell of her belly, hoping to catch another fascinating glimpse of _them_ before she left.

She caught him. Her eyes crinkled in amusement, as if she knew exactly what he was doing; what he was thinking.

He felt a lessening in the wall between them in that moment, when her eyes met his for the final time that day.

Then she turned around and walked away, her strides purposeful and confident.

She didn't call attention to his presence.

Neither did he.

* * *

 **Note: Thank you, everyone, for your kind support of me and this fic! It's been so lovely to receive such a warm welcome back. ^_^**

 **Also, in case you missed it, I have started a completely new Reylo baby fic called 'I'd start a war for you'. I hope you liked this chapter, and I hope you like the new fic if you read it as well!**


	4. Places in the heart you don't even know

**Note/Warning: This chapter contains a mildly descriptive labor/birthing scene. Please use your judgment for where you should stop reading if these sorts of things bother you. You can PM/review/comment with a request to reply and describe the important aspects you might have missed. Other than that, sit back and enjoy the halfway point of this tale!** **Also, I myself have never given birth (not yet!), and so I enlisted the assistance of two lovely ladies to specifically help with this scene. Any mistakes are mine, and not theirs!**

 **Thank you to everyone new and old who has shown me support and given me a warm welcome back. xoxo**

* * *

"I don't remember who said this, but there really are places in the heart you don't even know exist until you love a child."  
― **Anne Lamott**

* * *

"What are you _doing_ here?" he ground out past his teeth as he blocked her lightsaber with his.

Rey pushed back against him, and then broke away—only to come flying back towards him, her blade twirling aggressively as she pressed the attack.

She was trying to get him to fight back, but all he was doing was staying on the defensive.

Even _he_ had standards on who he wished to fight, and a nearly ready-to-burst pregnant woman was _not_ on that list.

Especially not this one.

There was something about her, something that had gotten under his skin and then grown within him… something that went beyond mere _morality_ —the little he had left, it felt.

She was special.

He admitted it to himself, finally; acknowledging it fully whereas before the thoughts had only ever floated on the edges of his awareness, or been couched in terms like _fascination_ , _possession_ , _mine_ , and _desire_.

He didn't want to fight her anymore. He was tired of facing her in battle, or _seeing_ her in battle against his troops.

He wanted to cart her away and protect her and _worship_ her… in a place where they could be uninterrupted as he learned her, and _she_ learned him… to have her children look up to him, even if he wasn't their father…

He snarled at himself as much as at a particularly nasty jab that seared the edge of his robes.

There was no way she would ever come to accept him for who he was now.

He was foolish to even believe it for one second.

The anger—at himself, and even some at her—suddenly filling him at that thought had him twirling out of a block he'd just made, suddenly throwing himself into the fight with the intent of disarming the woman before him fully. If he wasn't going to hurt her, at least he could damn-well get her out of combat.

"What are you doing here?" he asked again, pushing the advantage. He glanced briefly around and saw that Rey had pushed him into the forest on the edge of the battle. He had chased her here, and she had taken them even further away from the First Order and Resistance troops they had landed with.

Rey blocked one of his low swipes with a snarl, sweat dripping off of her brow. She did _not_ look well.

"I," she grit out, "Am here because the First Order _must be stopped_."

Kylo lifted a brow at her before blocking another of her thrusts, almost lazily. She seemed to be losing strength. "I meant, what are you doing here _now_ of all times? You can't be more than a half month away from delivery!"

He was amazed they'd even let her on the battlefield, but then she practically answered his question for him. Though their connection was locked up, she seemed to know _exactly_ what he was thinking.

"I'd like to see them _try_ to keep me away from the fight!" she hissed, breathing heavily in the wake of her retort.

She was fighting him with more fervor and anger than she had previously done over the last few months. As surely as something had changed between them eight months ago, softening their encounters in the aftermath, something had reversed that change since only their last encounter. Something had—

Kylo froze, and Rey knocked his lightsaber clean out of his two-handed grip. He didn't care—he didn't even track it with his eyes—all he could do was look at Rey in horror.

Rey was panting, staring at him with wide eyes even as his gaze tracked down her body to linger on the stains on her dark trousers. He kept his eyes lowered, trained on her legs, for a long, silent minute before he brought his startled gaze back to catch hers.

"How long ago did your water break?" he was able to choke out. "How long have you been having contractions?"

Rey bared her teeth at him, and it was only then that he realized her ferocity had been to distract her from the discomfort and pain that must be filling her body.

She didn't answer him.

"How _long_?" Kylo demanded as he closed the distance between them, gripping her shoulders with his hands even as she dropped her own hands to her sides, her lightsaber falling to the ground beside them and casting them in a blue glow.

Rey stared up at him, hair matted and skin shining with sweat. Her breaths were hitching every so often, and her face tightened up in pain as another contraction took hold of her body.

After thirty seconds or so, she looked up at him and answered on a gasp, "My water broke… three hours ago. The contractions… they… they have been going for… almost eight hours now…"

Kylo swore in at least five different languages as she collapsed against him, falling into his arms. Her distended belly was caught between them, and he shifted her down to the ground and onto her back so that there would be no undue pressure on her—or the children. After settling her down, he stood up and removed his half-cloak and the top two layers of his robes, leaving him in his tunic, sleeves, and pants. He lifted her up and arranged the material beneath her so that she was more comfortable, saving his thicker half-cloak to place beneath her head.

Her water broke three hours ago? Fuck, she could give birth any minute now, if that were the case. She'd been in the thick of battle with contractions, with her water having broken, and—

No, it was best not to think on that now.

He tamped down his fear at the situation—tamped down his anger at _her_ for putting herself in the situation in question—and took a deep breath. He had to think. He had never felt so overwhelmed in his life, it seemed, and he drew on the Force, drew on his emotions, and funneled it all into calmness. He had to think. He had to be clear-headed if he were to _help_ her.

There was no way to call for help; neither of them had communication devices on them. If he alerted others to their presence by shouting for help, the battle could be brought to them. If he left… _no_ , he wasn't going to leave her alone.

The thought didn't even bear thinking.

He could do this.

He wasn't even embarrassed as he recalled all the texts he'd consumed on pregnancy, many of which dealt with labor and delivery—instead, all he could feel was grateful for the… coincidental foresight of his obsession. He'd never thought for a moment that he would have to put it into application, yet here he was.

Here she was.

Here _they_ were, about to deliver her children. Children brought to her by the _Force_ , of all things.

The Force wasn't going to allow anything to happen to her before the children were born. After—no, that thought didn't bear thinking either.

He bared his teeth in a silent snarl and crouched down beside her head. He breathed deeply, and calmed himself once more. He needed to be calm—for _her_.

Rey's eyes fluttered open as he brushed his fingers over her cheekbones. She was still so _thin_ and _wiry_ , even with two children within her. She had pushed herself so _hard_ —at times it was admirable… right now all he wished to do was curse her foolishness, even if he had _no right_ to do that.

He was nothing to her.

That thought hurt him—a thought he would have laughed at himself over thinking years ago, to want to be _wanted_ —but he pushed it aside and instead asked, "Are you ready to deliver your children?"

Rey jerked her head in what he took as a nod, and whispered, "Yes. How long?"

He knew she was asking how long until they would be birthed. "I don't know. Not long. Not long enough to get help. Let's get you ready."

Her face contorted through another, sharper contraction. They were coming much closer together now—maybe six or seven minutes apart.

 _Curse_ her… why had she come today, when her contractions had obviously started before they'd even landed? Why had she not gone back to the ships when her water broke, for that matter?

Stubborn, _foolish_ , woman.

"Ready?" she panted, still trying to catch her breath.

Kylo stared down at her, trying to keep his expression blank even as he panicked internally. How was he supposed to explain…?

"What?" she asked sharply.

Kylo took a deep breath and forged ahead, not looking her in the eyes. "You need to… get rid of your pants and underwear. Your tunic should cover you from my… sight… but I can offer you my tunic to cover you, if you'd… like."

Rey stared at him, and stared at him, and then was gripped by another contraction. She clenched her eyes shut and let it ripple through her as she tried to control her breathing with exercises he was _intimately_ familiar with.

That one had been nearly a minute in length, and had arrived a lot quicker than the last few since he'd noticed. He wasn't even sure how he hadn't _noticed_ before. Sometimes he could be so _fucking_ oblivious, he thought, furrowing his brow in anger at himself.

As soon as the contraction passed, Rey looked up into his eyes and then nodded firmly. "Do it."

He looked at her in confusion. "What?"

"Help me with my... pants. You can keep your — _ah_!" she flinched in pain. "—tunic. I'll be fine. And… we'll need something to wrap them in. Save it for that. Please."

Kylo blinked long and slow at her before shuffling his body further down. He reached beneath her tunic but paused as she stopped him with a hand on his wrist. "Hang on," she mumbled.

She pulled up the front flap of the beige tunic and then struggled to get her hands beneath her swollen belly. He was about to offer to help her—he had figured out she was trying to loosen the drawstring—when she fell back on the ground again and said, "There."

Kylo couldn't help it—he pulled his gloves from his hands. He refused to look too deeply into his reasons for doing so, but he acknowledged, at the very least, that he would take any chance to feel her skin against his. He could be at least _somewhat_ honest with himself, if need be.

She didn't move the flap of her tunic back down again, but Kylo did it for her before hooking his fingers around the waistband of both her pants and her underwear where they rested on each hip. He winced as he noticed the fabric sticking and pulling on the hair of her legs as he drew them down her body. He tried to keep his mind on the task at hand, but couldn't help appreciating the beautiful, tanned skin that his fingers were brushing against on the way down.

It was only when he reached her feet that he realized he should have removed her boots first.

He gently removed them after unlacing them, followed by her socks, and finally by her pants and underwear.

She lay quivering beneath his gaze, bare from the waist down except for the front of her tunic draped between her legs.

He averted his gaze, realizing that now of all times was _really_ not the time to be eyeing her body up. Especially if he wanted her to like him.

He turned fully away at that. _Where had that thought come from?_

He was losing control of himself, he realized—and he had been losing it for far longer than just today.

A groan came from behind him as Rey was seized by another contraction. "Why are they..." She flinched and then pulled in a deep breath after it passed. "... coming so quickly now?" Rey gasped out.

"You must be close. I only read up on what the average birth experience was like—not the wide range of possibilities. Maybe… maybe it's happening quicker than normal with you, but I'm sure everything's fine." Kylo tried to keep the panic out of his voice. Why did he feel so unhinged around her all of a sudden? Was it seeing her in pain? This had _never_ concerned him before—not like this.

He shoved all of that aside—this was no time for him to dwell on his _feelings_ of all things, he thought disgustedly—and focused on the here and now.

She was laughing at him, partially in disbelief, but also partially in pure amusement. Through the sweaty tendrils of hair plastered across her face—he couldn't help himself as he reached up and pushed them away from her brow—her eyes glinted at him humorously. "You… read up… on labor and pregnancy?" she laughed through her panting.

Kylo glowered at her as he settled back onto his knees beside her hip, placing his bare hands palm-up on his thighs. "Yes," he finally mumbled out his reply. "I found myself… fascinated, okay?" he said defensively. Her gaze sharpened on him and he realized that the word 'fascinated' had been a very poor choice of words. It touched too closely to how he felt about _her_.

In an effort to distract Rey as the contractions came more quickly—and from following the train of thought he'd unwillingly given her—Kylo searched for things to ask her. "What is the babies' gender? Or are they a girl and a boy?" As soon as the question left his lips, he realized he'd never even thought about that subject, even in the privacy of his own mind. Not even when he'd been studying up on pregnancy, oddly enough. The thought had never even crossed his mind. He imagined that Rey knew, though.

He was startled when she let out a full and deep laugh, filled with amusement and even fondness, but also a little bit of… bitterness?

She laughed until another contraction hit and then suddenly it was all she could do to breathe properly. She flailed her hand outwards until she met Kylo's own hand, and then gripped onto it painfully. She didn't let go after the contraction passed, though, and Kylo was suddenly supremely grateful that he had stripped his glove from his flesh earlier so that he could feel her skin against his.

Rey finally answered him, her words interspersed with deep, shuddering breaths, "It seems… that the Force… is a chauvinistic _pig_ … in that all babies sired by the Force… seem to be _male_." At his raised eyebrow, she clarified, though her voice had lost some of the bitterness from earlier and had settled more on fondness—perhaps even a bit of wryness. "The twins are boys. I was just… _oooh ow_ —making a joke… kind of… cause," she grunted briefly, closing her eyes for a moment before opening them and continuing. "... Anakin Skywalker… and now my boys…"

She winced, closing her eyes just in time for her to miss the pained expression that crossed Kylo's features at the mention of his grandfather—a man who he'd been failing spectacularly for _years_ now.

Her next words drew him out of that quickly-spiraling train of thought, however. "It was a joke. An… admittedly flat one… just trying to bring… humor to the… situation." His lips twitched at that. He could see the value in trying to lighten the mood, but he did also see what Rey was trying to say. All the known Force-sired children _had_ been males… Well, that _was_ a little ridiculous.

"I love them—oh _Force_ that hurt—I love them... fiercely already," she gasped out right before another contraction took over her body. She breathed desperately through it, her eyes locked on his even as his entire body froze at the admission coming from her lips. To have her admit to loving her children, to be the child on the receiving end of that fierce love and devotion… Kylo barely remembered what that was like. All he could remember was what had come after that. He had blocked everything else out so irrevocably that he wasn't sure he'd _ever_ be able to get those memories back. He wasn't even sure he wanted them. But maybe… maybe he could create _new_ memories.

He winced inwardly at himself. He was slipping, if he were allowing such maudlin frivolities to fill his mind. But… he couldn't help it. There was something about Rey—something about her children… that just drew it all out of him, as if she were drawing poison from within him by her mere presence alone.

"I can tell," he replied after her contraction had passed. Her hand clenched his tightly, but looking at her he could tell it wasn't in pain. Was she…? No. She wasn't commiserating with him. There was no way that she could tell—that she could _know_ —

Before he could get angry at her, or at himself, he changed the subject slightly. "Have you picked out names for them?"

Rey grunted, struck by another contraction. They were coming very quickly now; it would be anytime in the next few minutes where she would have to start pushing and bearing down. "I… have," she answered finally. Her grip on his hand lessened slightly, and he took the moment to adjust himself so that he was closer to her knees—though still holding her hand for the moment, at least.

"What did you pick?" he asked, his curiosity truly piqued. What sort of names would a woman like Rey, with her upbringing the way it had been, choose for her children? Had she had help? He hoped and prayed to the Force and any other higher power out there that she hadn't chosen to name them after anyone _he_ might know…

"Micah," she replied after a deep, shuddering breath. He squeezed her hand after she was quiet for a moment too long, coaxing her into answering the rest of the question. She squeezed back and continued after taking another breath, "And Caleb. I picked them out of a naming book that was gifted to me by… by the General."

He could tell she had been about to say 'by your mother' but had chosen at the last moment to call her otherwise. He wasn't sure why but, even if it was unintentional, he was grateful that she had thought enough of his feelings to avoid a direct mention of his mother.

He was glad that it seemed his mother… that _someone_ had been looking out for Rey.

That someone was looking out for her when _he_ couldn't be there.

Not that…

He shied away from that thought, and finally looked up and replied to Rey's choice of names. "I think those are great names. They're… dignified, without being too stuffy."

Rey wrinkled her nose at him, and then winced. "Thank you. I… It took me a long time to pick them… out, but I think— _oh!_ —they're… wonderful, also."

Rey whimpered and then arched her back suddenly. "Oh _stars_ , I think it's time. Like… _really_ time, now. I'm not… I'm not ready for this at _all_!"

Kylo looked her over; she'd broken into a sweat over every inch of visible skin, including her legs, and he was _terrified_ all of a sudden that they were alone. He should have gone and gotten help...

Too late.

"Push with the next contraction!" he ordered as he dropped her hand regretfully and rearranged himself between her spread legs. He reached down and adjusted her legs so that they were bent, feet flat on the ground with her hips spread as wide as they would comfortably go. The front of her tunic was still shielding her intimate region from his view, but he would be able to help catch the babies by feel alone.

Kylo was struck suddenly by the nearly-uncontrollable urge to let out a loud, boisterous laugh. It was unbelievable, what he was about to do. The great _Kylo Ren_ , Master of the Knights of Ren, First Knight and former Apprentice to the Supreme Leader, and now Master in his own right… was about to deliver _babies_. And better yet, the mother whom he was helping with the delivery was his enemy, the padawan to his former Master, Luke Skywalker, now enemy to everything he believed in, and betrayer of Ben Solo…

The absurdity of it all nearly caused him to lose control of himself, but he just _barely_ managed to repress the urge to give in to the insane laughter bubbling up within him.

Rey whimpered even louder, shocking him out of his near-manic state, and then suddenly bore down, clenching her body and face as she pushed through a contraction.

"Oh _kriff_ , it _hurts_ ," she panted, trying to get her breathing under control between contractions in preparation for the next push.

Kylo looked up as he was reminded of something… He held his hand out and then tentatively lowered it until it was resting on the tunic covering her lower abdomen, just below the swell of her prominent belly. His eyes stayed glued to his hand where it was now caressing her almost reverently; maybe even possessively.

"You're still a virgin," he whispered.

She heard him and groaned, too tired and worn-out to get mad at his words. "Yeah? So? Not like… anyone would want… to be with me like this… I was treated in turns like a legend… and like a pariah… too good or too scary to… be with… in that way."

Kylo ignored the flash of anger that rose up in him at what she was implying, and instead focused on imparting the realization that had dawned on him. "This is going to hurt more. Your… hymen is still intact." He remembered feeling it beneath his fingers—through the Force—that fateful encounter on the satellite where he'd first learned she was pregnant.

"Fuck that," Rey snarled. "It can't hurt— _ow! Kriff!_ It can't hurt... more than… everything else— _stars that one was bad_ —going on."

"It's not going to help any, either." Kylo's reply was lost in her moans as she pushed through another contraction.

Rey let out a scream that startled Kylo into removing his hand from where it had still been caressing her belly through her tunic. "Oh _Force_ , I think I can feel its _head_. This hurts so _much_ ," she cried out as tears slipped from the corners of her eyes.

"I know, I know, I'm sorry!" Kylo had no idea what he was apologizing for, but it agonized him that he couldn't do more for her. He'd never been able to heal well—not like Luke could—and _never_ again since he had slipped into the Dark. He couldn't offer her any healing, and he couldn't offer her anything through the Force or through their bond—she had shut him off completely by this point, anyway. All he could offer her was his presence, and his reassuring words.

At least he hoped they were reassuring. He had never _desired_ to be reassuring to anyone.

Not before Rey.

"Rey. _Rey_!" He finally caught her attention as she focused on her breathing. "I need to put my hands down there. I promise I won't look but I need to feel what I'm doing if I'm to catch the babies before they hit the ground. You don't want that, do you?"

Rey shook her head fervently, but gasped out, "No!" before pushing again. Kylo wasn't sure what she was saying, so he waited for her panting to subside and for her to clarify. She noticed his hesitation and gritted her teeth as she spoke up again between panting.

"You need to— _ah!—_ lift my tunic... so that you can see. This needs to... be done... _right_."

Kylo would have hesitated again but he could tell there was no time to waste. He couldn't let these children come unsafely into this world because he was being _squeamish,_ and Rey was right; he needed to be able to see to do this properly.

He reached towards the tunic and flipped it up. He couldn't stop himself from seeing certain things, but thankfully he was too focused on the crest of a head coming from her body to really be distracted by said _things_. He reached forward with his hands and immediately made contact with the fleshy globe of skin. He felt around slightly, his fingers flinching away but then moving back as he encountered what could only be Rey's own flesh. He settled one hand underneath the head and left the other in midair so that he would be ready at any moment to catch the child.

Rey cried out again as she pushed.

"I'm so sorry," Kylo responded almost immediately, instinctively. "I wish that I could take the pain away. It'll be over soon, I think."

She didn't reply except for a pained shout that fell from her lips as she pushed again. They carried on for a few more minutes this way until finally— _finally_ —the head emerged even further from Rey's flesh. One of the shoulders was coming through and Rey was crying loudly between attempts at catching her breath. Her body was shaking nearly violently, likely as a result of the pain and strain it was being put through.

"Des...cribe to me—" She broke off with a grunt. "What you... see..." Rey gasped out.

"The head is out, and one shoulder," Kylo quickly replied, loud enough for her to hear. He had cradled the head with one hand and the other was hovering just beneath it.

"You need... to twist... the body... gently to get... the other shoulder... through," Rey panted out quickly.

Kylo was already reaching forward to do as ordered before she was even done with her sentence. His hands gently turned the child, angling it so that the other shoulder slipped from her entrance.

All of a sudden, the rest of the infant's body followed suit, and Kylo quickly cleared the nose and throat as he distantly remembered he must do.

There was a hushed, tense moment, and then the child suddenly wailed his displeasure.

Rey let out a pleased gasp at the sound, but pushed again as another contraction hit her.

Kylo stared down at the naked baby filling his hands, wide-eyed, before realizing that there was still one more. He set the first baby down on the ground in front of his knees, on top of the fabric he'd piled beneath Rey's form, and then reached his hands forward again.

"Kylo!" Rey bit out. "You need to cut the damn… cord."

"I…" Kylo was at a loss. "I don't have a knife. I only have my lightsaber."

"It'll have to do," she panted.

"But I could hurt—"

Rey cut him off, with words that went straight to his heart. "I trust you. Just do it."

Kylo called his saber to his hand after he braced the child on his lap with the other hand. He thumbed on the saber and then carefully—oh _so_ carefully—cut the umbilical cord with his lightsaber before switching it off again. The baby shrieked even louder and the smell of charred skin was awful, but the cord was cauterized for now, and could be attended to further at another time.

For now, it would have to do.

He set the child down again and reached down just in time to catch the next baby. He thumbed his lightsaber on again and repeated the same action as earlier before throwing the saber to the side. It was still lit, and cast them all in strange, red light.

Rey collapsed on the ground, though she was still experiencing slight contractions as she worked to deliver what Kylo remembered was called the afterbirth. He was too focused on the new life before him to be disturbed like he thought he would be at that thought.

Kylo whipped off his last two layers, using his separated sleeves to wipe off the babies' bodies as best he could. Both were quietly sniffling in his arms as he wrapped them both up awkwardly in the cloth of his tunic.

He could only stare at them. He was mildly aware of Rey finally stilling as she tried to catch her breath, but what truly had his attention were the two little babies that _he_ had helped bring into this world.

 _He_ , Kylo Ren, had delivered _babies_.

He brought his face close to theirs, looking at them as closely and carefully as he could in the darkness and the odd, flickering light of his saber. They had no hair yet, and their eyes were the typical baby blue of human offspring… but they were intelligent already. Their faces were round and red, and Kylo could tell immediately that they would be identical. They may just be babies at that point… but he just _knew_.

Kylo felt inextricably connected to these two souls, and he had barely seen their faces for more than a few minutes.

But he had _known_ them for far longer, as they rested in their mother's womb these past months. He had been aware of their presence—and a part of him knew they'd been aware of _his_ —since that first realization on the satellite.

They may not be his by blood… but he felt like they _could_ be his in other ways.

He had brought them into this world, and that meant… so _much_ to a soul as damaged and fraught with darkness as Kylo's was.

He had brought _life_ where normally he only ever brought _death_.

And they were _his_.

He would fight anyone who would dare contradict him.

"Can I… Please, I'd like to hold my babies." Kylo was suddenly drawn out of his staring contest with the now intensely curious twins in his arms. They were staring at him, but he also caught sight of Rey staring at him over top of the bundle in his arms. There was exhaustion and pain and worry there… but also wonderment and joy.

Kylo leaned forward, balancing with his knees as he used both hands to pass the children into their mother's arms. She had pulled herself into a sitting position, finally, though he struggled with the urge to tell her to lay back down and rest.

She wouldn't listen to him, anyway.

He found he didn't want to let them go. He didn't know how he'd ever leave now, but he knew he would have to. At least for today.

He'd just have to find them again at other times, much like he'd kept running into her during the past few years. But this time he would make sure to do it deliberately. He couldn't imagine never seeing _them_ again—or _her_ , for that matter.

Kylo watched in awe as Rey cradled the babies against her chest and then dropped a lingering kiss on both of their soft foreheads. "Micah," she announced softly after kissing one. "Caleb," she whispered against the other's skin.

Kylo stood up and moved around to kneel behind Rey and slightly to her left, rather than between her ankles like he had been. He braced her against his shoulder and part of his chest and she leaned back, letting out a sigh of relief. He wrapped his arms around her so that he was holding the children against her chest, just under her own grip.

Her head was right there, against his shoulder, her hair tickling his cheek, and he was suddenly filled with the desire to caress her. All he had to do was…

He tilted his head and placed a kiss on Rey's forehead, his lips lingering against her skin just as hers had against her children's.

When he pulled back, he caught her staring at him, utterly surprised by his action. She hadn't expected it in the least, but to him… it felt like he'd finally gotten to do something he'd wanted to do for _months_ now. Something he hadn't even realized until that moment.

All of a sudden, he stiffened and then broke eye contact with Rey. He cursed as he gently but swiftly extricated himself from behind her, making sure that she and the children were balanced well before standing up and calling his lightsaber to him. He thumbed it off and clipped it to his belt. Besides his boots and pants, he was wearing nothing else. Everything else was beneath Rey or wrapped around the children.

He could think of no better use for his clothes in that moment.

"What is it?" Rey asked sharply, but then she perked up and tilted her head to the side as she obviously picked up the same sounds he'd heard moments before. "People," she answered her own question. "They're looking for me. You need to go."

Kylo could only nod. He didn't want to leave her; he wanted to stay beside her—for how long, he didn't know. But he knew it wasn't possible.

Rey must have picked up on some of that, because her voice softened and she whispered out, "I'll be fine. Thank you… for _everything_." She meant it, too.

"You're welcome," he replied gravely.

Then he was off like a shot, into the darkness of the forest and away from… away from what had become his whole life.

He hid that realization deep within him, knowing it would bring nothing but pain and suffering… but he couldn't get the image of mother and twins out of his mind.

That was there to stay, it seemed.


	5. I heard our souls whisper

"And when we kissed one another for the first time I could swear I heard our souls whisper ever so quietly, 'Welcome home.' "

― **Beau Taplin**

* * *

He had felt them every day in the Force since. Their lights were small, but he always seemed to be aware of exactly where they were, at all times. It was as if they _wanted_ him to be aware of their presence.

He was aware, through them, that Rey had convalesced for a bare two weeks on base before going back out into the world. He wasn't sure exactly what she was doing, as she'd blocked him out—a large part of him understood why, though he was still achingly empty as a result of the block, even with the feel of the children—but he could only imagine that she was stubbornly refusing to lie still like an invalid while there was important work to be done.

Kylo admitted that he would likely do the same.

When he felt their Force signatures on a planet he had been tasked with raiding, five weeks after their birth, he was horrified at the realization that he had been about to bring death to the feet of those whom he had brought into the world.

His Knights didn't question his orders to abort, but he was sure that the officer of the First Order cohort accompanying him had already lodged a complaint.

He didn't care.

* * *

The next time they met was a week later. She was furious, looking for all the world like a goddess of battle as she swooped down on Kylo from above. He had barely been able to block her slashing blow in time, and then it was all he could do to block her blows, peering at her through the visor of his mask.

He refused to fight back, though.

She had Micah and Caleb strapped to her _back_ of all places. On a _battlefield_.

What was _wrong_ with her? Was she truly _that_ irrational? He knew that she had been worried for the safety of her children; that she was worried her children would be subjected to tests and taken from her... but _this_... He was aghast. To be so _concerned_ for the safety of her children that she would then turn right around and bring them onto a _battlefield_? Did her paranoia know no bounds?

"What is wrong with you?" he growled.

"Your damn First Order attacked an innocent planet last week! I thought you had changed; I thought you were different!" she snarled back.

That wasn't what Kylo had been asking, but he replied anyway. He couldn't help it. "They were aligned with the Resistance and building weapons for you. It's one of the biggest X-Wing manufacturing planets in your alliance—did no one tell you that?"

Apparently not. She froze, though she didn't lower her guard. She looked confused, her eyes darting across his mask and body as if she could see into his mind.

As if she were suddenly reminded of their connection, she opened her mind to flutter against his. His had been open to her the entire time; all she'd had to do was open the bond once more.

"I promise I'm telling you the truth," he said, letting her read the truth in his mind.

She relaxed then, and nodded. "Okay. I don't like it but… okay."

Suddenly Kylo was up in her face, having knocked her saber to the side. "What are you doing with the boys on a _battlefield_ of all places?" he demanded as he gripped her jaw with one hand, forcing her to meet his eyes, even if she couldn't tell exactly where they were. "It's _dangerous_ ," he finished on a hiss that was barely picked up by his vocoder.

"I refuse to leave them with anyone else, and I am one of the only Jedi left—I _need_ to be here," Rey spat back, her eyes glinting furiously with a hint of mania, though he could tell through their connection that she wasn't mad at _him_.

She was mad at her allies.

"I don't trust them with my babies," she continued, her voice leveling off but still angry and suspicious. "Maybe it's a foolish feeling, but I don't want to risk coming back from a mission—from an important _battle_ where I'm doing my duty for the Resistance, sweating and bleeding for them—and them having been taken from me. For their 'protection'… I've heard them muttering...

"As if they would _dare_ take my sons from me!" She drew in a deep breath. "That's why I take them with me wherever I go. I refuse to let them out of my sight, but I refuse to stand by and watch as the Resistance goes on without me."

"How can you protect them on a battlefield?" he queried, trying desperately to suppress his own sympathetic rage at what she felt was a threat to her babies. "Anything could happen to them here! A stray blaster shot, you falling, my _lightsaber_..."

"I... I made them a lightweight, protective covering that I built into a special carrier, and I've woven a shield around them with the Force. It won't work forever, or against everything, and they'll grow out of it soon enough, but…" She flicked her eyes downwards, almost as if she were embarrassed. "It will do for now."

She brought her eyes back up to his mask and then touched her fingers to the lower portion. "Would you like to say hi?" she queried softly, gently. Her mind rested calmly alongside his, content at the mere mention of her children.

She didn't need to hear his answer out loud. She simply turned around, showing him how much she _trusted_ him.

Kylo peeled back the breathable layer over her sons' faces and was immediately captivated. Their heads were covered with straight hair the same shade as their mother's, though their open, curious eyes were still the same baby blue that they had been upon birth. It would be a while yet until that changed, however. Their skin was pale where it was visible and they stared up at him with more clarity than he'd ever seen babies exhibit. Not that he'd seen many, but…

"I've got to go," Rey announced suddenly. "I'm sorry; Master Luke is calling for me and…" She trailed off, realizing that she probably shouldn't have mentioned his former Master's name so casually around him. She sent him apologies through their bond, and he quickly, though regretfully, closed the covering over top of the twins again.

"It's okay," he replied gruffly.

She paused, looking up at him as if she were trying to see into his soul.

Maybe she could.

"Until next time," she murmured before dashing away.

She left the connection open.

So did he.

* * *

For the first month after their last encounter, their connection had remained open, flowing strongly between them both as they explored each other's minds, thoughts, and feelings. They had learned so much of each other during those weeks, and Rey had come to accept Kylo as part of her life—in a way, as part of _her_.

She could swear that Micah and Caleb accepted him as well, in their own baby-like way.

Rey had nothing to compare them to—there were no babies at all on base, or anywhere that she traveled with Master Luke—but she could swear that they were more intelligent than they had any right to be for their age… more _aware_.

They had shared nearly every waking moment together, and even some nights wrapped in each other's dreams, until all of a sudden… they weren't.

He had shut her off.

It was abrupt. One moment he'd been happily lost in one of her memories of flying, and the next he had completely closed himself off and drifted away.

She'd tried to reach out for him, but it was no use.

Rey wasn't sure if it was her imagination or not, but Micah and Caleb had both seemed more morose than before. Or… perhaps they were simply picking up their cues from her.

Rey had engaged in two more battles and one more raid since then, and each time she had looked for Kylo Ren's lanky silhouette.

He hadn't been there.

Three months had passed since he'd closed himself off, and still there was nothing but rumor.

Yet even rumor was more than she'd had previously.

There were rumors that he'd died, or that he was on a very important, long-term mission. There were rumors that he had left the First Order—and his Knights—behind in a crisis of conscience. There were rumors that he had taken his Knights and struck out on his own, fulfilling missions as he saw fit. There were rumors that he had become the next Supreme Leader. There were rumors that he had fallen in love and closed himself off from everything but his bride-to-be.

Rey thought that maybe the truth lay somewhere in the middle of all the rumors.

Whatever the truth was, the First Order was falling apart from the top down, and no one—not even the Resistance operatives—had heard a word from either Snoke or Kylo Ren, or even from anyone professing to have received orders from the Order's two most powerful men. Infighting amongst the Generals had been observed, though mostly after the fact—typically in the form of a crashed Star Destroyer upon a planet's surface and all survivors tracked down and murdered mercilessly.

Lifting her hand out of the hot spring, she reached over and tugged on the blanket covering Micah. He must have thrown it off of him while she'd been lost in thought, staring out the cave's entrance and into the darkness of the night. She glanced over at him, realizing that the twins were both being unusually quiet, and followed her little boy's eyes up… and up… and _up_ , into the eyes of Kylo Ren, unmasked, unshaven, with his clothes torn and bloodied.

Rey's eyes widened but she didn't let out a sound. She didn't react at all, having frozen her body mid-tug on the baby blanket of the cradle, her neck arched as she caught and held Kylo's gaze.

She'd never seen him so… _wrecked_ —not even on _Starkiller_ had she seen him look so thoroughly battered, bruised, and unkempt.

"Kylo," she whispered finally, her voice echoing against the walls of the cave as she acknowledged the relief she was feeling at seeing him _alive_. "Are you… are you okay?"

He dropped to his knees beside the cradle, not answering Rey's question even as he broke her gaze. He lifted both boys out of the cradle and buried his face between their cheeks.

Micah and Caleb, in unison, raised their little hands and buried them into Kylo's dirty mass of hair.

Rey could hardly see through the tears leaking down her cheeks, and the darkness surrounding them, but she was sure that Kylo was sobbing fitfully as he clutched her children to him.

Quiet surrounded them except for the gentle lapping of the water in the hot spring and the snuffling sounds coming from both Rey and Kylo as they struggled to control themselves. Rey was sure that they remained like this for over half an hour, though she couldn't be sure. It felt like forever—and no time _at all_ —by the time he finally spoke in a harsh whisper.

"I killed Snoke."

Rey drew in her breath quickly, holding it in disbelief… but also in _hope_ that he was telling the truth. She only released it when he opened his mind to hers—just a crack, but enough to brush lightly against her mind and show her what she needed to know. Just the bare facts.

But they were enough. She could see enough to _know_.

"You…" she let out on a long exhale. "You killed him… to protect my babies?"

Kylo was quiet and he let the question hang in the air as he placed the twins back into their cradle, covering them up after wiping grime and blood from their faces from where they'd touched him. After they were covered, he cast his eyes to the water of the hot spring, away from Rey.

He was visibly struggling to control his rage, tears continuing to run paths through the dirt and blood on his cheeks.

He didn't need to say anything. Rey had already seen it all. Snoke demanding Kylo to bring him the children's— _her children's_ —bodies. Kylo going over the deep end right after he blocked her from his mind, harnessing all of the darkness that he could get his hands on and channeling it until he'd struck Snoke down with a blow to the heart, channeling the Force through his body until it crumbled to dust beneath his fingertips. He had withdrawn then, journeying from planet to planet as he nearly self-combusted.

All the while, Kylo had been consumed by _rage_ … but also _love_.

He loved her children. And… he loved _her_.

Rey wasn't quite sure what to do with that knowledge, so she left it where it was; between them, unspoken and unanswered.

She brushed against his mind and offered comfort and solace and—if she really stopped to think about it—her own version of love for this intense, passionate man. "Come," she whispered softly. "Join me."

It was only then that Kylo looked towards her, realizing that she was naked beneath the water of the hot spring. The water was dark, and the cavern only slightly less dark, but still he could see her bare shoulders rising above the water even as her tumbled hair trailed across the surface.

She didn't avert her eyes for a single moment as he divested himself of his clothes. The moment was too raw for anything but her appreciative, thankful gaze, honoring him and his body for their sacrifice; for his _strength_.

He stepped into the water and met her gaze, even as he winced from the steaming water hitting his cuts and sores. His body was too tired to react to her hungry eyes, but he sent her a nebulous feeling of _desire_ and _comfort_ through their bond.

Rey held out a hand.

He took it without hesitation.

Drawing him to her, Rey reached to the side with her other hand as she stood up. In it, she held a washcloth, and she brought it to his face with a tenderness she had only recently shown for her children.

No one else mattered.

She didn't _want_ anyone else to matter.

As she washed him gently, reverently, her body brushed against his every so often. Her stomach had tightened again, muscles showing through as though she'd been training hard to regain her strength. She still had stretch marks—which he reached out to caress in awe, gripping her hips with both hands—but her breasts, still filled with milk for her boys, swayed against his bare chest once in a while.

Her nipples hardened even as she desperately tried to ignore the ache between her legs—she may have been inexperienced, but even _she_ knew what that meant. Now wasn't the time for that.

No, now was the time for comfort; for gratitude; for _peace_.

Kylo stilled her hand with one of his own wrapped around her wrist as she tried to dip her hand lower to clean his body. "But—"

"Shh," he interrupted gently. "I've got this. There's no need."

Rey stood still and watched as he took the washcloth from her hand and washed himself, her eyes hooding with desire. She followed every movement, and Kylo kept his gaze locked on hers.

He wrung the cloth out, finally finished with the rest of his body, and handed it back to Rey. She turned around to place the cloth back on the rocky ledge of the pool, and then faced Kylo again.

Kylo was staring at her with his own version of hungry eyes, taking in every last detail of her form. "You're beautiful," he murmured.

Rey could only blink as she stared up at him. He took a step towards her, and she flushed. "You're beautiful," he repeated, "Inside _and_ out." He tapped her upper chest with two long fingers, and then flattened his palm over her heart.

Reaching up, Rey carded the fingers of both hands through the scruffy beard that adorned Kylo's face, fascinated by the texture against her skin. However, that was not her ultimate goal…

Sliding one hand to the base of his skull and leaving the other resting against his cheek, Rey drew his head down far enough that she could press her lips to his in a gentle kiss.

It was everything she'd imagined—but also _nothing_ like she'd imagined.

He was still for a moment as their lips touched. But _only_ a moment.

Within seconds, he'd gripped her waist and pulled her up and against him, wrapping her legs around his waist for her even as he propped her up on the ledge of the spring's basin. Even still, he did not press against her like she'd imagined he would. He was excited, yes, she could tell, but this was not about sex. It wasn't about desire, or lust, or carnal urges being fulfilled.

It was about _love_.

Finally, Rey could admit it. Kylo accepted it in his own mind at the same time as she did, and they both filled each other's minds to the brim with love and affection and comfort, and the desire and willingness to hold and _be_ held.

Their lips moved against each other's; tasting, caressing, and learning the shape and feel of their mouths. Rey had never felt anything so divine—so _right_ —before in her life. She'd experienced kisses before—ages ago now, they seemed—but _this_... this made those kisses seem as if they had never occurred.

Kylo slowly drew back, his body shuddering and shaking with suppressed tears even as he sent nothing but happiness at her through their connection.

Quickly drawing his head to her shoulder, Rey wrapped her arms tightly around him, knowing that in that moment the intensely private individual that was Kylo Ren _needed_ to be held above all else. This simple act opened him up and he began to cry harder than he had been before, clutching Rey to him as he shook, quivered, sobbed, and whimpered himself into quietness.

Rey untangled one of her hands from where it rested within his hair, soothing it down his back and rubbing gentle circles over his skin, despairing at every rib, every vertebra that she felt beneath her fingertips. "Shh, it's okay. It's okay, I'm here."

Finally, he was still in addition to being quiet. His mind was empty; wrung out.

He'd held himself together for so long, all by himself. He didn't need to do it alone any longer, and Rey wanted him to know that.

"Come back with me," she whispered against his cheek, the hair of his beard scratching slightly against her skin as her jaw moved.

He tensed, and Rey knew that had been the wrong thing to say.

"No, never mind," she stuttered, clutching him to her even as he tried to pull away. "Forget I asked. I just… don't close yourself off from me again, please?"

He stilled again, though only for a moment before he nodded. "Okay. I can do that. But… I can't come back with you." He paused, then pulled himself back and gripped her chin so that he was looking her in the eyes. "You should come with me—you and the twins. I… I don't know where I'm going next, but I'll keep you safe. We'll keep each other safe. We don't need the Order, or the Resistance… we don't need anything but each other," he pleaded.

Rey's eyes pooled with tears. "I can't, Kylo," she whispered. "I need to see this fight through to the finish. I owe them that much."

Kylo dropped his hand from her chin and rested his forehead against hers, drooping dejectedly. "I understand," he replied quietly. "I do. I don't have to like it, but I do."

Rey smiled, even though she knew he couldn't see it. "At least now I can tell them some good news; that Snoke is dead. Maybe now…" Her voice was filled with hope, even as tears still leaked from her eyes. "Maybe now the war will end swiftly."

"Maybe," he repeated fiercely, remembered rage flashing across his mind as he clutched her against him once again.

One of the twins let out a sudden cry. Rey and Kylo both snapped their heads in the cradle's direction.

Rey pulled herself out of the water, her supple body moving easily as she moved to kneel beside the cradle. "It's nothing," she reassured Kylo finally. "He just wanted attention."

Swiftly dressing, Rey pulled Micah out of the cradle and turned around to hold him out to a still-naked Kylo.

As soon as he saw her intention, he flew out of the water and dressed even more quickly than Rey had, though he winced slightly at the tackiness of the dirty cloth against his skin. She watched with fascination and adoration as he gently took Micah from her hands, cradling the baby gently against his chest. Though Micah had grown considerably in the months since he'd last held him, Kylo's large hands completely dwarfed the child, and his body looked gigantic in comparison.

But… it was enticing rather than fear-inducing. Rey could no longer see the deadly warrior in him—or at least, she could no longer _only_ see that aspect of the man. Instead, she saw a side of him that she knew only _she_ got to see—she and her children.

Rey smiled softly and picked up Caleb, holding him against her own chest and wincing slightly at the pull of her breasts, nearly full of milk. They had eaten just before bathing, though, and wouldn't need fed for another few hours.

"Rest with me, tonight, before I continue on my way tomorrow," Rey pleaded softly, not wishing to break the spell of Micah holding Kylo completely captive, the baby's tiny hand wrapped tightly around Kylo's large pinky finger. She let out an amused huff at the sight, though it was only loud enough for herself to hear.

Kylo's answer was to fold his legs beneath him and rest up against the wall, raising one arm so that Rey could easily slip under it and rest against his chest.

She curled against him, Caleb pressed against her, and soon fell asleep. She was surrounded on all sides by the people she felt closest to.

By her _family_ , she realized suddenly—but it was too late to give that thought its due; sleep was already pulling her under as Kylo's mind wrapped lazily around hers, and her children exuded love and affection towards their mother—and towards the one who had brought them into the world.

When she woke in the morning, the children were in the cradle crying out to be fed, and—

He was gone.

* * *

 **Note: The amazing AuroraLynne of tumblr, artist extraordinaire, drew a beautiful piece of commissioned art for the scene where Kylo holds the babies to him... Just beautiful.**

 **Also, my husband and perrydowning commissioned a beautiful piece of art, for Christmas and my birthday, showing Rey battling with the twins on her back.**

 **You can find both pieces of art under the tag 'delicious ambiguity' on my Tumblr, juuls.**


	6. A mother's love is fierce

**Note: Thank you everyone for your support! This has been an amazing process, sharing this work with you, both originally and currently. I'm so pleased you're enjoying it, even with some of the rougher aspects that I have incorporated into the story. This chapter is... tough. I had to rework much of it to get into Kylo's head properly, which necessitated a mad dash the night before I first posted it in order to redo it to my own standards. Thank you to Annaelle and Perry_Downing, my two lovely betas, for assisting me with the extra work.**

* * *

"A mother's love is fierce, forever, and will let nothing stand in its path. Ever."

— **Vicki Reece**

* * *

It shouldn't have been possible for two Force users to have affected the war as much as they obviously had. With her newfound knowledge of Kylo having killed Snoke—and promptly disappearing from the theater of war himself—Rey looked back on the months following the event and saw how much the First Order had suffered without its Supreme Leader, and without the Master of the Knights of Ren.

The Resistance had thought they'd finally gotten the upper hand.

Well, it seemed they had had help.

Leia had simply shrugged tiredly when she'd heard the Supreme Leader was dead, announcing that she should have known but that she would take help from anywhere; from anyone.

She'd been content until she'd learned _who_ had killed Snoke.

The General had shut down for weeks after Rey had returned with the news of Kylo's role in the death of his former Master. Even her Force signature had closed itself off from Rey and even from Luke's gentle probing, and no one was privy to what exactly the General was thinking or feeling.

But she and her Master could guess that the woman was conflicted and in pain, not knowing what to do with the small bundle of hope she'd been given.

She'd nearly been relieved of her duties—the fact that she hadn't tried to issue any commands as she pulled herself together was the only thing that had saved her post, irrefutable reputation or not. The Resistance had continued to engage the now-struggling First Order as its General fought her own internal battles.

Finally, Leia had pulled herself out of her stupor with the help of her brother. Rey had recently returned from a successful takeover of the First Order's officer's academy on Arkanis, just in time to witness General Leia Organa surface from her rooms. She had looked frail and worn out, but… she looked at peace with herself and the galaxy.

"There's hope for him still, isn't there?" were the first words she had spoken to Rey.

No one had asked how Rey had known what she'd reported ever since she'd first told Leia, but the elder woman had looked at her in that moment with a glint in her eye that showed just how shrewd she really was.

Rey had said nothing.

Now here she was, weeks later—three months after having last seen Kylo—about to board a First Order ship where there was rumored to be a Knight of Ren. The twins were strapped to her back, and all three of them had fallen deep into the Force, reaching out through their meditation to twine around and against Kylo's mind. He was a long ways away, but that didn't matter. Distance had no bearing in the Force.

Not between _them_.

Not anymore.

During the last months they had spent so much time locked together in the Force, dispelling each other's loneliness to the point that they only ever felt comfortable together.

Rey couldn't imagine being as alone as he was, though.

Although she was surrounded by people she felt increasingly uncomfortable around and out-of-touch with, she was still better off than he was. Even though her former friends had finally, irrevocably, pulled away from her through a lack of being able to understand her fear and increasing isolation, she still had a working relationship with them and many others. Even though she was seen as a rogue element and they continued to whisper of the dangers she posed to her own children, they still needed her Jedi skills… and at least she still had her babies to offer her physical comfort, unlike Kylo who only had their mental comfort to bask in.

Even though she had it better than he, she still never parted from them; not even for a moment. She didn't trust those around her, not even the friends she thought she'd had at the beginning of this journey, all those years ago… The same people who increasingly treated her as a skittish, odd _thing_ , more than a person.

And there were _still_ those who wanted to take and study _her_ babies—as if they were _things_ much like their mother. Rey might be willing to give herself to the cause—still _believed_ incredibly in the cause—but she would never sacrifice her children to it.

 _Never._

Rey squared her shoulders, understanding through a thrum in the Force that it was time to get ready.

She had a Knight to seek out and destroy.

* * *

Six weeks later, and another Knight was dead—four more to go.

They were as directionless without their Master as the First Order was without their Supreme Leader, and Rey had made it her personal goal to track down and kill every last one of them as her contribution to the war.

She had constantly despaired at the death she rained down on her enemies over the years, though the part of her that _truly_ believed in the cause was absolutely alright with culling the world of _these_ blights upon the galaxy. Killing was never easy for her, but her absolute conviction in the rightness of her cause gave her the strength to continue.

She just wanted the war to be over and, for that to happen, the Knights needed to be _gone_.

She'd snarled at Luke when he'd told her he could take over the task if she wanted to spend more time in _safety_ with the twins.

She refused to stand idly by, but she also refused to be separated from her children.

That Luke would even suggest it opened up a rift between them that she didn't even wish to cross. There had been little between them for months, if not years, now, other than the strict roles of Master and Apprentice, the last Jedi in the galaxy. Rey didn't care about him; not truly. All she wanted was to be finished with this war so that she could live the life she could only dream of late at night, cradled in the thoughts of _him_.

Everywhere she went, her eyes sought out the man who was beginning to fill in the crevices in her soul, even though she knew he would be nowhere near the First Order or his former Knights. That was no longer his world.

Nothing was the same, but still she pushed forward, caught up in her pursuit of bringing justice to the galaxy.

* * *

It was six months since he'd last seen Rey and the twins, and he couldn't stand it anymore. He'd pulled himself out of the depths of Coruscant's poorest, lowest districts, raided his stash of credits to make himself look and smell at least somewhat presentable, and then flown his ship in the general direction of Rey's Force signature.

He hadn't told her he was coming, but he hadn't needed to. As he got closer, she'd become happier and excited, to the point that he'd admonished her to be careful lest she raise suspicion. There was only so much that Kylo could take of the bond—as lovely as it was to be so wrapped up in her mind—before he was consumed with the desire to touch her; to feel her in person.

He wasn't sure why he'd needed to be alone, or why he'd chosen such an awful place to hide himself away—but he was sure it had to do with trying to punish himself.

Plus, it wasn't like he could go back with her to the Resistance.

There was no place for him there.

There never had been, and he sincerely doubted there ever would be.

Kylo had followed her to a small inhabited planet where he'd been drawn to a large city. Landing just outside of it, he trekked through the streets until he came to a stop in the shadows outside of a tavern.

She was in there.

He could hear sounds of celebration coming from within, but before even five minutes had passed, Rey was letting herself out of the front door.

"I'll be back! Just going to get some fresh air! No, I'll be fine; I don't need company—really, stay put!"

Her aggravated expression melted away as soon as she met his eyes. Even through the darkness of the shadows he'd hidden himself in, she zeroed in on him right away.

It was uncanny.

It was beautiful.

 _She_ was beautiful.

And… the twins. They were perched one on each hip—and they had _grown_. He conducted a mental tally then, and realized that they had to be just shy of a year old. Their dark hair was kept short against their scalps, and they were both staring at him where he stood in the shadows, finding him as quickly as their mother had.

It took everything he had not to touch her when she came to a stop in front of him. He was breathing heavily, trying to contain himself.

He just wanted to _touch_.

"I feel it, too," Rey said, repeating the words that Kylo had once spoken to her those long years ago. Rey dropped her forehead to rest against his sternum, her hands still full of her children, and let her thoughts and emotions flow into him; around him.

Yes, she _did_ feel it, too.

"I miss you," she said.

Kylo still didn't speak. He simply lifted her chin with his hand and placed a lingering, though chaste, kiss on her lips, infusing it with everything he felt.

He drew back and then finally spoke. "I miss you, too."

Bending down he placed a light kiss on both Micah and Caleb's heads. "Their eyes… they've changed," he mused. "I can't see them well in the light. What color?"

"They're the exact same color as mine are," Rey replied. She let out a little snort. "Seems the Force isn't very original—their DNA sequences are basically the same as mine except for a few minor differences. Well, and they're male and I'm not, of course."

Kylo smirked at her as he straightened out, and then captured her lips again. This time it was more passionate, conveying exactly how much he'd missed her and what exactly he wished they could be doing right then.

She sighed against his lips and then drew away regretfully. "Would you like to hold them?" she asked softly.

Kylo's eyes lit up and she immediately handed over both children. He wasn't quite sure where or how to hold them with them both in his arms, but Rey helped situate them until they rested in the crook of each arm. She stepped back and watched him, though she kept repeating a word over and over in her mind— _family_.

"Really?" he asked her, his gaze lifting from the children so that he could meet her eyes. _Family_? She had thought it before, that time in the cave, but he had thought she was referring to her sons alone. But this time he was _sure_ she was referring to all four of them together. No one... no one had truly treated him as what he thought a family _should_ be—as someone who was wanted and not discarded, loved and cherished and not forgotten. "Do you mean that?" Kylo was filled with a desperate _hope_ that she did indeed mean what she'd been thinking. He had never felt like he'd truly belonged before, except for with _them_... and yet, he had never put that feeling into words, even within his own mind—worried that he would be hurt if he let himself hope for too much, too _soon_.

She didn't need to ask him what he meant—she understood. He could feel her presence rubbing against his mind, feeling what he was feeling, and she offered him a happy, though equally as desperate, smile as she replied firmly, "Yes."

Kylo was about to respond when he heard a voice he hadn't heard in years—not in person, at least. He'd heard her voice plenty through recordings and intercepted messages.

His mother.

The one who _should_ have been his family, had things been different.

The woman who had broken his heart when she sent him off to learn with his uncle—who had been _relieved_ to see him go. The woman who had almost never had time for him... and when she did, that time was never _his alone_.

Her voice was coming out of one of the open upstairs windows of the tavern.

His heart clenched painfully, and he was suddenly overcome with too many conflicting emotions. Struggling not to drop the babies, he deposited them as carefully but as hurriedly as he could back into Rey's arms, all while she looked at him with sad, understanding, _compassionate_ eyes.

"Come back with me, Kylo," she pleaded. "I'll protect you. I won't let anything happen to you. She misses you so… _I_ miss you. We need you. All you have to do is step through those doors, or wait here while I go get her. You can _do_ it."

Kylo could tell that she was putting herself out there, baring her soul and heart for him. She was defenseless in her desire for them to be reunited fully and finally.

And yet he was lost in himself, trapped and pulled into his mind and memories... the past wrapping its insidious tendrils around him to the point where he didn't know where he was, or who he was with, or what even to _think_ anymore.

He had held this off for so long.

Each time his past and former family had been mentioned before, it had been all he could do to hold himself together long enough not to fall into the pit and trap of his mind. His past was a black morass from which he might escape physically... and yet it was always waiting on the edge of his mind... waiting for him to falter.

Today was that misstep. He had plunged deep into the quicksand of his memories

He watched in horror, as if he were completely detached from his mind, watching as if from a distance, as he opened his mouth and shot her down. He wailed internally; the words were not what he wished to speak, and yet they flowed so easily... "How _dare_ you. I could _never_ come back with you to the Resistance. For one thing, they won't have me; they won't ever forgive me—they'd probably even _execute_ me. Do you wish for that to happen?" he snarled savagely. "Do you wish for me to _die_? I thought you wanted me—I thought you and I... I thought we _lo_ —" He clenched his eyes shut—the only control he had over his body and mind and voice, it seemed—so that he could not see the increasingly crestfallen expression on her face

"I can _never_ face that woman again," he continued, this mad version of himself working into a rage. Micah and Caleb started to cry, but he ignored them—he could not face them; could not see the harm that he was causing them, even as he tried fervently to stop himself from speaking any further, and apologizing profusely for everything he'd already spewed from the depths and scars of his soul. His heart _ached_ as he caused them pain without being able to stop. "There is too much that's been said and done that can never be _undone_ between us. There is too much heartbreak; too much possibility of death on all sides. You're not worth it—even _they're_ not worth it. I will do anything else, but _this_ I cannot do—not even for _you_." He gestured towards her and the children.

None of it was true. But it was too late.

The bond shut between them—and he knew... he _knew_ that this was beyond saving. He _knew_ that any chance of a future with them—any chance at _happiness_ such as he'd never before experienced—was _gone_.

And there was no one to blame but himself.

Even what had happened to him—what he had _experienced_... it did not excuse what he had done.

The truth of the matter was that the past did not matter anymore. The future with _them_ was what he wanted—and yet it had taken until now for him to realize.

But it was a realization that came too late.

He thrust and pulled and railed against the hold on his mind, wailing at the unfairness of it all—at the inability to escape and the absolute _horror_ which he had felt as his mouth had moved without his command.

With a shudder that wracked his body, he _finally_ regained control.

"Wait! Rey—I didn't mean… I…" He couldn't find the right words to express the depths of his remorse, and she couldn't feel it like she normally would have through their connection. He knew she could see it on his face, in his posture, but he had wounded her too badly with his words for her to care in that moment. She was too blinded by her own grief, too focused on the protection of her children from this _monster_ that stood before them.

Rey didn't say a word. She simply tilted her chin up, squared her shoulders, and ignored the tears streaking down her cheeks as she turned around and walked back into the tavern, her— _his,_ his heart screamed out—boys perched on her hips.

She never once looked back, and she never once let him back in.

With a last, desperate gesture, he reached out with his mind towards his boys...

He clenched his eyes shut, holding in a scream even as the tears poured freely down his face.

They had shut him out as well.

* * *

 **Note:** **There is hope. Have no fear. The night is darkest just before the dawn.**

 **But really, Kylo's head is a pretty messed up place in this fic, especially with how he feels about the Resistance wanting to use the twins - his babies - to help with the war effort. His feelings about his family, Luke and Leia and Chewie and Han - are all tangled up in the lies and false memories Snoke planted within him.**

 **So... yeah. His reaction here may seem extreme, to a lot of people, even including me, but it just sort of felt right for him to lash out. The romance part of the story needed conflict, as well, obviously!**

 **I hope you forgive Kylo (and me).**


	7. We needed to break a little

"Maybe we needed to break a little, so we could put ourselves back together more beautifully than before."

― **Leah Raeder**

* * *

One more Knight to go.

It had been a year since Rey had last seen Kylo—a year since she had last opened herself to him through the Force—but every day something reminded her of him. Whether it was someone with the same shade of hair as his, or the same eyes, or seeing Luke or Leia, or the _Millennium Falcon_ … even seeing Caleb and Micah reminded her at nearly every turn of the man who had pulled them from her body.

It didn't matter anymore what he said—not really. After a couple of months of throwing herself with a passion into the war, focusing on nothing else besides her sons, she had finally calmed enough to acknowledge what had gone through the bond while he had lashed out at her. He had been consumed by fear, by his past, and had panicked, lashing out in the way he knew best.

It didn't make it right, and yet she understood.

But the bond remained closed. She was scared of what she'd find; scared of the man he might have become; scared of the irreparable harm she may have done to his soul by refusing to hear his apologies when he tried to take back his cruel but ultimately insincere words.

All the while, however, she was wasting away, and she knew it.

Everyone knew it.

But they had stopped caring—stopped expressing their concern, at least—when she had snapped at them constantly as a result. She did not want their pity; she did not want to be reminded day in and day out that she was becoming something... _less_.

No one came around anymore, not even Luke. She had Micah, and Caleb, and herself. They were all she needed, she had been telling herself.

She wasn't sure if she believed it—Kylo's image kept trying to press into her consciousness, and she was sure that the twins had something to do with that on occasion. They seemed less happy than a year ago, even as they grew and laughed and learned to play and love their mother and each other... something was missing for them, as it was for her.

And still she refused to open their connecting door.

She had thrown herself into her own personal goal of seeing every last Knight eradicated from this galaxy.

She wasn't sure why—she wasn't sure what it would accomplish—but she desperately wanted to believe that eradicating the Knights would help her feel better. That she was ridding the galaxy of a pestilence. That it would help fill the void in her heart.

That, perhaps, it could help to heal Kylo, as well.

Rey tightened the straps on the twins' harness. They'd always been rather small, but at nearly two years of age they were almost too big to be carting around on her back like she'd always done. Her muscles, strong as they were, even though she'd only been picking at her food the last year, could only stand so much. She had always been described as thin but _solid_ , and now she could only ever be described as whipcord thin.

Maybe this would all be over before she had to think more on that.

The First Order was down to a handful of ships, and every last planet that had been tied to them before had now divorced themselves from the cause. The First Order was adrift, two Generals split between seven ships, and hemorrhaging credits.

The New Republic was on the mend.

And there was one measly Knight left.

Upon receiving confirmation of the Knight's location, Rey had excused herself from training with Master Luke and readied herself and the twins for the voyage in her own personal ship—one she'd pieced together herself over the years.

She'd never once told him that she didn't intend to return—but she was sure he knew.

She was sure he knew a _lot_ of things.

There was a certain way he looked at her in the rare moments they spent together. He had little to teach her anymore, but his teachings had taken on a more... _personal_ cast in the last year. He spent time speaking of the dark and the light, and what it took to draw a person—a _man_ —to one side or the other. He spent time speaking of his past, carefully drawing ever closer to the topic of the _one person_ Rey thought constantly about. She had learned a lot about young Ben Solo in the picture he painted around those events he still would not touch fully on—and much of the rest had been filled in with archival footage she'd found of the time in question.

Oh yes, Luke knew. Yet he _said_ nothing. Not explicitly.

For which Rey was eternally grateful.

And yet, for all that, she was still afraid to reach out to the man whom her and her Master danced around in conversation. She could not tell him she knew of his past, and that she _understood_ his pain.

It was not her right.

And she wished to keep the past in the past—it was not part of who they were to each other. It never had been.

After checking her stash of credits—all carefully hoarded and saved from her salary—and packing extra clothing for all of them alongside the few personal possessions she owned, she had looked up and met the eyes of her Master where he'd been leaning against the inside of her shuttle's ramp.

"I consider this final act as the conclusion to your Jedi trials, Rey," he'd announced softly. "You've done well. Eradicating the Knights has been a great service which you have done the galaxy."

Neither of them had mentioned Kylo Ren, the former Master of the Knights of Ren.

As far as the Resistance was concerned, he'd disappeared after having killed Snoke and no one knew where to find him. He was no longer a priority, they said.

She'd smiled fondly up at Luke, and then Rey had crossed over to hug the normally very private man. "Thank you," was all she'd said.

He'd drawn back after clutching her to him for only a brief moment, his own expression of fondness on his face. "I'll see you soon. May the Force be with you," he'd said as he'd walked down the ramp. He had stilled suddenly, before reaching the ground, as if he had been considering something, and Rey had held her tongue on her response, waiting to see what he had to say. After a moment, he had turned his head just slightly over his shoulder and had said gently, "Be patient with him, Rey," before striding off.

She had been too stunned to ever properly finish her goodbye.

Pulling herself from her memories just in time, Rey caught sight of a chrome and black helmet over the top of a squadron of Stormtroopers.

Just like every other encounter with the Knights, Rey's lips twisted at the bittersweet reminder of Kylo.

Yet this time, she had something to look forward to afterwards.

Freedom.

* * *

She was a Jedi.

Rey had sent the helmet, tabard, and lightsaber hilt back to the Resistance, just as she'd done with every other kill—but this last time she hadn't accompanied her trophies… her proof of the kill.

She didn't care anymore. Her role in the war was done, and all she wanted was to escape anything that reminded her of it—the Resistance, planets associated with the Resistance, even holonews that breathed a single word on the topic.

She was a war hero, technically, she'd heard… but she wanted none of that.

She wanted peace and solitude, and for her babies to be safe—even from her allies, they still had much to fear.

Rey looked around the five-bedroom cottage she'd bought on the outskirts of a city on the planet Doniphon. It was out of the way, but near enough to civilization—both the cottage and the planet—that should she need something for the children, she could always get it.

All she cared about anymore were her children. They'd turned two last week and she'd almost cried at the reminder of Kylo's role in their birth.

She had nearly broken down then and there; had nearly opened the bond to seek comfort from him once more.

Yet she was too scared to do so, now, more than she ever had been before. It had been too long, and she was afraid that he wouldn't be there to welcome her back with open arms. She knew now that he hadn't ever meant the words he'd said; had known for a long time… but it was too late. She was stuck in this pattern and she didn't know how to escape, no matter how desperately she wished she could just open the bond... just open it, take the chance, and _see_ , once and for all.

But she couldn't. She might have been fearless in battle, but where Kylo, the man who had tunneled his way into her heart, was concerned, she was a quivering mess. If she opened the bond now, she would face rejection—or be faced with the possibility of his death. And that was more than she could ever possibly handle.

So she kept it closed.

It was better to be safe than to be sorry.

In a way, it showed how much she loved him... and yet, for all that, she was still incapable of opening herself up again.

She simply couldn't take the chance.

Rey wiped away her tears, smiled at the boys crawling across their playpen, and then rolled up her sleeves to get to work.

* * *

Kylo opened his eyes at the tentative brush against his consciousness. He nearly shut himself off immediately, but the signature was too familiar…

There were two signatures, in fact, and they were both signatures that had closed themselves off from him alongside their mother over two years ago.

Kylo had had no idea how the twins had been able to do that then, and he still didn't—and here they were, doing something he'd never thought _three_ year-olds could ever do.

They were trying to tell him something, reaching across the galaxy through the Force to do so.

"Why are you doing this to me?" he snarled, both out loud and at them through his mind. "I don't want to see this— _she_ wouldn't want me to see this. She doesn't _want_ me—not anymore!"

But he was wrong.

The twins shoved image after image into his mind. With each new image he had to re-orient himself, as everything was from their perspective, _much_ closer to the ground than he had ever been that he could recall.

But each time he threw off his disorientation, he was struck raw by what he saw.

Rey crying herself to sleep, weeping into her children's hair; Rey's body growing thinner and thinner, her clothes hanging loosely on her frame; her once-beautiful hair becoming dull and matted as she refused to care for it, even as she spent every waking hour tending to the needs of her children; the sounds of her sobs coming from the shower in her rare free moments, though the twins could still hear it all…

But most importantly of all, the twins sent memory after memory of Rey talking to herself—or rather, she was talking to _him_. To Kylo. She told him about how she forgave him, how she understood what had happened, how she wished to move forward with him together, forgetting the past, how she missed him, how she _loved_ him, how she would do anything to get him back but she was too afraid that he wanted nothing to do with her anymore…

"Enough!" Kylo growled, a sob of his own nearly threatening to choke off his words.

The images stopped, but the one of Rey's sickly profile remained stuck in his mind's eye.

He threw himself off of his bed, prowling towards the dresser where he kept his bare few possessions. He'd holed himself up, surfacing only rarely to offer his services as a security guard to supplement his dwindling stash of credits. At least this room on Coruscant had been a temporary lease—he didn't have any loose ends to tie up.

He could just leave, and go to the woman he loved—had loved for a _long_ time.

He finally had the chance to right his wrongs, and show her exactly how much she meant to him.

"Where is she? Can you show me?"

He didn't have much to bring with him except himself.

He hoped that would be enough.

She hadn't noticed him yet.

Rey hadn't looked up from where she was lying on a blanket, the twins in a playpen beside her as she took in the sunshine of the beautiful afternoon.

Kylo wasn't sure she would recognize him even if she _did_ notice him standing there—his hair was longer than he'd ever kept it, pulled back from his face with a tie at the base of his neck, and he was wearing _color_ … something she'd _never_ seen him in. He'd always worn blacks, greys, and beiges around her.

Something felt _right_ about the royal blue shirt he'd donned today, however, and he grinned when he noticed the shirts that Micah and Caleb were wearing—they _matched_.

Ah, the Force worked in odd ways.

He heard a gasp.

Kylo angled his head so that he could catch her gaze. Rey was staring straight at him, sitting up on her blanket. She still looked so frail, and the trembling of her lower lip and the tears streaming down her cheeks didn't help that perception any—and yet… she was so _beautiful_ , despite all that.

Before he knew it, he'd closed the distance between them and had lifted her up into his arms—she really _was_ falling to pieces. He nuzzled his face into her neck, breathing in her scent in great gulps of air even as she threaded her hands into his hair. She'd pulled out his tie but he didn't care—feeling her touch him again after so long was worth it.

It was worth _everything_.

She was sobbing into his hair, her hands clutching at him everywhere, frantically, as if trying to reassure herself that he was really there.

Finally, it seemed to dawn on her what she needed to do, and Kylo stumbled to the blanket with her as he was flooded with her emotions. She'd renewed the bond and desperately began to flood everything she was feeling in that moment—everything she'd felt these last two years, even—into his mind.

Kylo was sobbing as well, trying to process it all. He gathered her into his arms and rolled onto his back. Rey braced herself on top of him, her thin body too _light_ as it pressed against his.

Their minds wrapped around each other, expressing welcome and love and—most importantly—remorse and regret for the things that could never truly be forgotten...

...but were forgiven.

"You're so… gaunt," she whispered as she ran her hands over his chest. "What happened to you?"

Kylo hadn't even realized it until that moment—sure, he'd registered that he'd had to take his belt in a few times, but had never concerned himself with it—but she was right. He saw himself through her eyes, seeing how skinny he'd become. She hadn't been the only one neglecting herself.

She flushed as she caught his thought, her hair wild as it tumbled around her face and onto his. "That doesn't matter now. You're here. We'll take care of each other, now." A sudden look of panic took over her features. "You're here to stay, right? _Right?_ "

He reached up and loosened her death-grip on his shoulders, pulling her in against him and holding onto her tightly.

"I'm here to stay. Forever, if you'll have me," he whispered.

She let out a little sob of relief. "Yes. Yes, forever. If you'll have me, too."

Kylo pulled her up until her lips were ghosting against his as he spoke, staring into her eyes and wrapping his Force signature around hers, more closely than he ever had before, so that she would understand every word.

"Of course I'll have you. You're my family, and I'm _yours_. I love you."

"Oh _stars_ ," Rey gasped, a new tear slipping from her eye to splash against his cheek. He didn't mind. "I love you, too. So _much._ "

She crushed her lips against his, and only then did Kylo feel like he was finally _home_.

Rey was his home, and he wished desperately to worship every inch of his new home; to show her through his actions what couldn't be encompassed by the mere words 'I love you.'

 ***#*#* (Author's note: _If smut bothers you, you can skip to where you next see these symbols_.)**

Kylo quickly rolled her beneath his body and she let out a peal of laughter, causing a ripple of pleasure to run down Kylo's spine. He buried his face in her neck, kissing lightly and breathing in the scent that was hers alone as he ran his large hands up and down her sides. Finally, he adjusted his hands to tug her shirt up on his next pass, encouraging her as he went to tilt her body until her torso was completely bare to him.

She was too thin, but— "You're stunning," he murmured, angling his body downwards where he rested between her legs so that he could kiss her sternum, the soft globes of her small breasts brushing against his cheeks.

He looked up in time to see a red flush start to stain across her chest, up her neck, and through her cheeks. Kylo grinned wickedly at her, delighted to have incited such a reaction from this strong woman.

Rey's eyes darted towards Caleb and Micah, who had curled up together to nap within their pen.

Kylo could sense what she was thinking. "They'll be fine, Rey," he breathed out before latching onto one of her dusky nipples.

Rey's breath hitched as she arched into his mouth. Her hands came up to weave into his long hair once more, and she whimpered slightly as he let go of one nipple, only to sigh happily once he started to lave the other. His hands continued to run over her sides, feeling the space between her ribs in stark detail—he had half a mind to march her inside and feed her all evening, but _this_ was more important, this expression of homecoming, of love.

It was a long time in coming.

It didn't matter who they used to be—it mattered who they were _now_.

And they were a man and a woman, who cared deeply for the other; who would do anything to protect the ones they loved.

Kylo trailed kisses from her breast and down her quivering abdomen, struggling with his desire to go slow, and his _need_ to feel her body against him, around him. He reached the waistband of her loose pants and then pulled back so that he was kneeling between her legs. He was struck by how eerily reminiscent this was of when he'd helped her give birth to the twins and, looking up between his lashes, past the dips and sharp angles and soft globes of her flesh, he saw the same knowledge within Rey's eyes. However, her eyes also contained a smoldering intensity that urged him to _get on with it_.

So he did.

Her foot brushed his erection as he gripped her ankles, lifting her legs up with the one hand so that he could pull her pants and underwear off smoothly and quickly. He felt himself harden even more at the contact, and then the sight before him nearly stole his breath away entirely.

Rey was all tanned skin and lithe grace, her long legs leading up to a beautiful thatch of dark brown hair covering her entrance. He still held her ankles in one hand, and slowly he parted them, angling them to either side of his hips as he leaned forward. He ran both hands up the inside of her legs, marveling at the way the sunlight dappled against her skin as it streamed through the leaves of the trees nearby.

By the time he'd reached her thighs, he had spread her open before him, her legs to either side of his body as he leaned forward. He could _smell_ her arousal, and could even see it, glistening between her curls. "Rey..." he groaned. She shook beneath him as the thumbs of both hands made contact with her outer folds, a gasp escaping her and her hands fisting into the material of the blanket beneath her.

"Kylo, please..." she pleaded, her head lifting up so that she could see him when he glanced up the line of her gorgeous body.

"Please what?" he replied teasingly, knowing full well what she wanted. He angled his mouth so that his breath blew across the soft curls of her mound, reveling in the feel of her thighs twitching beneath his hands.

He held her gaze as he brought his thumbs closer together, brushing lightly over her wetness. He couldn't help himself—he thrust his groin against the ground at the sensation, and barely kept his eyes open.

Rey couldn't, however. Her head dropped back down to the ground with an even louder gasp of, "Please! I need you." She was sending desperation at him through the bond, trying to express to him without words what exactly she wished from him—what they _both_ wanted.

Kylo took pity on her; he took pity on _both_ of them.

Rearing back, he pulled his shirt off, throwing the blue fabric into the same pile as he'd thrown her clothes, and then sat back on his rear to quickly remove his boots, pants, and underwear. All the while, Rey's eyes devoured him, and he knew that she wanted this, just as he wanted it— _needed_ it.

"Now," Rey said as Kylo started to move his head between her legs. He froze, knowing that she was not asking him to continue his motion, but rather...

"Are you sure?" He had to ask.

"Yes," she replied verbally, letting her love and acceptance and decisiveness flow over him through the Force. "I need you _now_."

He sent back his own emotions, watching her eyes tear up as he moved over her, his body covering her, but not quite touching. He let the tips of his fingers trail over her body—up her abdomen, circling her breasts, caressing her throat, and then moving slowly back downwards—watching as she squirmed beneath him for the touch that she _truly_ wanted.

Finally, he gripped her hips—trying desperately to ignore the sharpness of the bones pressing into his palms—and nudged forward with his hardness, trying to angle himself _just_ so... and slid slowly _home_.

This. _This_ was what made him complete, his body pressed against hers, her legs wrapped around his waist, her inner walls clenching tight around him as he moved slowly within her, letting her—and him, if he were honest—acclimate to the feeling of being stretched to the brink.

 _This_ was what made him complete as he pulled her chest flush with his, her head arching back towards the ground as he thrust into her slowly, carefully, from his kneeling position. She was so _light_ in his arms, but her body was glorious. She was warm from the sunshine and from the flush of arousal spreading up and down her skin, her smile equally as radiant as the rest of her. She pulled herself fully up by his shoulders to sit upright, straddling his lap and reveling in the feel of Kylo rolling his hips up and down, in and out of her.

Kylo could feel every ridge within her, every pulse of her walls, and it wasn't long before he felt the pull of orgasm starting low in his abdomen, threading slowly through every nerve in his body. He could tell that Rey was getting closer, but she needed a push over the edge or she wouldn't come before he did—which wouldn't do in the _least_.

Keeping one hand braced behind her back, snarled in the tangle of her long hair, he brought his other hand between their bodies and zeroed right in on her clit, his thumb rubbing circles on the bundle of nerves. He watched her expressions, listened to her vocalizations, felt how her body reacted, and paid close attention to what she was feeling in the Force... all so that he could better please her.

With the intensity of his focus, it wasn't long before she was coming undone, letting out a keening noise that, coupled with the clench of her walls around him, and the feel of her soaring pleasure through the bond, sent him tumbling over the ledge right behind her, pulsing deep within her as his hips lost the rhythm of his thrusting. Eventually he came to a stop, Rey draped, boneless, against his chest, her arms slung over his shoulders.

 ***#*#***

"Kylo..." she whispered against his collarbone. "I missed you so much..."

"Shh, it's okay, Rey. I'm here now," Kylo whispered back, refusing to break the spell as he pulled her, whimpering, from off of him. He placed her reverently on the blanket, on her side, and then curled up behind her, his eyes seeking out the twins as he draped his arm over her side and between her breasts. He vowed to greet his children properly soon, to cradle them against him and show them how he _loved_ them, but for now, this was more important.

 _She_ was the most important thing in his world.

"I know you're here now..." she murmured sleepily after a few minutes of calm. "But... I thought you were dead. I was so scared to open our connection because I was scared of what I'd find..."

Kylo's heart ached as he heard Rey's voice break at the admission. Now he understood why the twins had reached out to him like they had... now he understood why she looked as if she were wasting away. "Everything will be alright," he soothed. "I came when I realized I was needed. I'm here for you. I'm alive."

Rey twisted her head around just enough so that she could look up at him, a serious expression tugging at her mouth. "And how did you know where— _oh_." She froze, halting what she was saying as the twins' minds rolled against hers and Kylo's, showing her and him a few choice images that made it clear exactly _who_ had told Kylo where they were.

"Thank you, dear hearts..." Rey whispered happily as she turned around and curled against Kylo's chest, both of them falling asleep as the twins warmed their minds, and the sun warmed their skin.

* * *

 **Note: For those who are concerned... the twins slept through it all. :P (Yeah, yeah, I know! lol)**

 **Epilogue coming up soon!**


	8. The soul is healed

**Note: I'm still not 100% but I'm getting over the shock of being diagnosed with RA. I don't mind sharing that with you, as it's a part of who I am as a person, and part of the mystery of why my hands had been hurting so much even when not writing, necessitating ice packs just to go to sleep. I'm not telling you this out of looking for pity. I just wanted you to know why I'm going to be a bit slow returning comments, emails, PMs, everything, for the next little while.**

 **I just need a little time to regroup.**

 **And thus me wanting some happiness and posting the epilogue today. I hope you enjoy.**

* * *

"The soul is healed by being with children."  
― **Fyodor Dostoyevsky**

* * *

Kylo couldn't keep his eyes off of her body. She had filled out since they'd reunited, as had he—both of them caring for each other in a way he'd never thought he could have—but the part of her that drew his eye was the swell of her belly beneath her full breasts.

She was only two months away from delivering a child. His child… _their_ child.

His eyes roamed her body lovingly, and finally she looked up from cleaning her lightsaber. She'd obviously felt his eyes on her.

He gave her a little wink and she grinned back at him, one hand lifting up to caress her belly, the emerald on her finger sparkling in the sunshine as she tenderly stroked the life within her.

The laugh lines on her face showed just how much she had healed; how much they had both healed, truly. They had a long way to go, but were learning to trust the world again; learning to venture beyond the borders of their home; learning to make new friends and allow others into their lives.

They had both been ruined by the war when they found each other, but together they were becoming stronger than they'd ever been before. There was still so much that haunted them, and still so much that needed to be discussed and decided upon... Still so many things left unspoken, at his behest, or hers, or from a silent understanding between them. Yet they were always covering new ground, exploring their pasts and speaking of the future. The words of one such conversation from the week before filled his mind again, causing his lips to twist at the thought of his mo―

... of _her_.

Yet he did not crumple like he had before―because of Rey. She was his strength, as he was hers.

Rey's mind swirled around him, lifting him up from the depths and pitfalls of his past with the pure love that she sent to him. He smiled at her once more, resuming the motion of his hands as he caught her eyes and sent her his own burst of love and adoration.

She was _his_ ―his to worship, love, and honor.

"Dad?"

Kylo looked down, pulled from his thoughts and the lock of Rey's eyes on his—he hadn't even noticed Micah and Caleb approaching him from the side. He angled the chair away from the table where he was reassembling his own saber and offered his knees for the two five year-olds to climb onto if they so wished. "What is it?"

They finished settling themselves into place, pushing their dark brown hair off of their hazel eyes in a simultaneous motion that still sometimes gave him the chills. Finally, Caleb replied to Kylo's query, though both of their faces were turned up towards his with a somber expression plastered upon them.

"You'll still love us after the baby is born, right?"

Kylo looked down at them in shock, ignoring the spike of curiosity that Rey was sending at him through their constant connection. "I… of _course_ I will," he replied incredulously. "Why ever would I not?"

Micah answered him this time. "Well… she's _yours_ in a way that we never will be and—"

"Don't you ever say that!" Kylo admonished, his arms pulling the twins in against his chest as he hugged them fiercely. "You will _always_ be my firstborns, even if you are not directly of my blood. You are your mother's blood, whom I love exquisitely, and you are from the Force, which flows through me as surely as it flows through you. I pulled you into this world and I will _always_ love you. You _are_ mine, as far as I'm concerned; as far as your mother is concerned. You always have been, and nothing can ever change that. Do you understand?"

They were quiet a moment as they both clutched his shirt, obviously mulling over what he'd just told them. Finally, they both reached up and pulled his head down, small hands twining into his tussled black hair so that they could give him a kiss on each cheek. They spoke at the same time. "We love you too, dad."

They hopped down, racing out the open front door and into the sunshine beyond the cottage.

Kylo lifted his head and caught Rey looking at him, tears streaming down her face even as she smiled at him with all the love she could bring to bear.

He dashed across the room and swept her into his arms, one hand braced against her belly to feel the life of their daughter beating within.

She was already his, as much as Rey was, as much as the twins were.

As much as _he_ was theirs.

This was home. This was _family_.

* * *

 **Note: Wow. So this is it. The first fic (that's not a oneshot) that I have ever completed! I have a feeling I might be revisiting this fic-verse again in the future. There's so much more I could explore.**

 **I know sometimes there have been hard topics to get over in this fic (child endangerment and Rey's paranoia, and even Kylo's inability to deal with the past - oh, and even the children not being his) but I thank you for sticking with me through it. I deliberately chose to explore these topics, as I felt that they were possible aspects of their characters; of how they could react in this sort of situation. And also, I really wanted to focus in on the topic of non-blood related families and how parents can love their adopted children even if they're not biologically theirs. Which some people took issue with when I first posted this. So... thank you for giving it a read, even with all that!**

 **For those who are interested, Rey and Kylo are naming their daughter Abigail.**

 **Thank you to my beta Annaelle, and the lovely ladies Perry_Downing and MissHarper who assisted like crazy amounts with this fic. They deserve tons of props and kudos of their own.**

 **Thank you so much, everyone, and I hope you enjoyed!**

 **P.S. dearmisskitty on tumblr created beautiful art for this scene, commissioned by Perry and my husband. Go check it out by searching my name (Juulna) on her or my blog (juuls).**


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